


Unexpected reunion

by Nella136



Series: Unexpected reunion [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Choking, Consent, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fanfiction, Feels, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Kinks, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Magic, Masturbation, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Porn With Plot, Post Hogwarts, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Sensation Play, Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Smoking, Smut, Snogging, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 78,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27542812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nella136/pseuds/Nella136
Summary: "Hermione was baffled by the mere thought of where she had ended up, or more, in what position she’d ended up. She hadn’t expected Draco Malfoy to show up at Hogwarts, and even less had she expected to find herself pinned to a wall by him in her room at the Three broomsticks. "Four years post war. Hermione Granger's and Draco Malfoy's paths intertwine again. They had found passion and lust before, in the year post war, both broken and in need of healing. They found comfort in each other, but naturally parted ways when their broken pieces had been mended. Now, they have an unexpected reunion. Where will it lead?*COMPLETE*
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Unexpected reunion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088066
Comments: 187
Kudos: 245





	1. The reunion

Hermione almost jumped with glee when she received a letter from Hogwarts, only this time, she wasn't about to find out she was a witch. This time, she had been invited to Hogwarts to speak to the students, not about the war, no, but about her career, how she had ended up where she was - on a glowing path to becoming the next Minister of Magic.

She was not one to show off, but if there was something in her life she took pride in, it was her work.

The war had ended four years ago, it had forced her to grow up fast, take responsibility even faster. It had also, temporarily, and effectively knocked her off her path for an entire year post-war. For a while she had simply lost side of herself, who she was, what she stood for. Without the adrenaline coursing through her veins from war time, she was left feeling empty, lonely and desperate for another adrenaline high. It had led her down the path of cigarettes, cocaine and bad habits. The only habit she had kept until now was cigarettes. Her one vice she was not to give up easily on.

Another something she picked up during that year was a yeast infection, most likely from having had to much mind blowing sex. She had never explored that freely before, and it had felt truly empowering. In a way, it had acutually helped her find her way back to a new self, a post-war Hermione Granger - and it had all been by the efforts of a man, a wizard in fact, the bad sort. The sort with blonde hair, a pointy face and an _oh so good tongue._

She had simply been a woman, he a man, and they had dutifully shagged each others brains out, for several months. It helped her survive when she was no longer fighting darkness on a daily basis. She’d been eager to explore another side of her, a side that was born the minute the war had ended. How people went back to themselves, as they were pre-war, made no sense to her. She had been forever changed, and so apparently had Draco Malfoy, that was how they found comfort in each other. Both destroyed and scarred in different ways, and unknowingly they helped each other pick together pieces of themselves. Discovering new pieces were the old ones no longer fit.

It had been pure physical though, some emotions were involved surely, but none that either of them confessed to. Whatever it was that they had, it ended abruptly when Hermione had been offered a position with the Ministry of Magic, he on the other hand, had left for Scotland, where he effectively had taken over part of his father’s business.

They hadn't spoken since- and they were both rather fine with that.

Not that she would ever admit it, but no one had ever measured up since. Not even Ron.

To say she was startled when he walked through the doors of the Great Hall, dressed in an emerald green dress shirt, with black dress pants and dragon hide boots, would be an understatement. She choked on the celebratory champagne she'd been offered from McGonogall, headmistress of Hogwarts, letting out a low whimper. His hair was still white as snow, and he had certainly aged well. His feauteres appeard less pointy, more sharp, clean edges. His shoulders broad, legs long.

Was it even possible for him to look so damn good?

She coughed away the champagne in her throat, and that's when he caught her eye.

The look alone was enough to make her underwear wet. Those grey eyes, with specks of ice blue. She remembered how they looked those few seconds before he reached ecstasy. Remembered how they used to be glued to her when she undressed, and the satisfied sounds he made when he reached down between her legs to find her wet. Ready for him.

Fuck. This was not good, this was in fact very _very_ bad. She was a respectable woman now, not the lost girl she'd been the last time they'd met. Therefore, she straightened her back and crossed her legs.

Luckily, she wasn’t married yet, she was single as of three months ago, when Ron and her had decided to go back to friends. It had all been very painful and refreshing at the same time, and it effectively allowed her to focus solely on her career at the Ministry.

Why has he here?

She felt a hand on her shoulder. McGonogall's. The headmistress looked at her with pensive eyes, interpreting Hermione's reaction as something different. She only knew the bad story they had together, the one where he bullied her and called her names. She had no knowledge of the many things he called her when she was writhing underneath him. Oh, the way he-.

Her thoughts were interrupted. "I did mention I invited Mr Malfoy as well did I not? Oh well, I invited you both since you have such successful careers, in hope of inspiring our students to intriguing career paths."

"I thought he was working for his father?" she asked, trying to sound respectful. Not bothering to mention she had in fact not been informed.

"Oh no, not since two years ago, Mr Malfoy works with his own organization now, diplomatic relations, post war efforts. Surely you must have heard of his work at the Ministry? D.M Unity?"

 _D.M Unity._ Of course she had heard of it. But she had no idea it was Draco's. The D and the M should have tipped her off though. The diplomatic efforts that had been made by D.M Unity had been highly praised at the Ministry, it had aided them in more ways than one to mend wounds post war. Hermione was stunned.

Maybe even, impressed?

Draco had been assigned a seat at the Professors' table, far away from her. She exhaled, because she was unsure of how his proximity might affect her, but at the same time she wished he had been seated closer. She glanced in his direction more times than deemed appropriate, and she never once caught him looking at her.

_What. A. Prat._

Surely they never claimed friendship, or romance of any kind. But they had been intimate in many ways, and for that she at least deserved a polite nod. _At least._

McGonagall being the headmistress, welcomed her and Draco to Hogwarts and announced that they would each be speaking about their respective careers before the Hallows eve feast on Saturday. Hermione had arrived today, Thursday, and was to stay until Sunday.

Hermione looked out at the sea of students, and for a moment nostalgia hit her hard in the chest. There had been a time when she had been seated there, at the Gryffindor table. A time when she’d been full of dreams and hope that eventually had been clouded by the looming war and the threat of her life, of everyones life that she held dear.

She swallowed a lump in her throat. Also remembering the final battle, the time she had seen the lives lost, placed in rows that never seemed to end, right on the very floor the students now rested their feet. It felt absurd, she felt a sudden need to throw up and cry at the same time.

She never imagined being seated at the Professors' table in the Great Hall could be so emotional. When dinner was over she felt drained and hurried outside for a long overdue cigarette.

Hermione perched on a bench, mostly hidden from view of nosy students. She lit the cigarette and when she felt the nicotine reach her head, calmness swept over her. Finally could breathe again.

Images flashed inside of her mind. Images of _him._ That one time they had done it in front of the big window in his London flat, and that other time he'd tied her up and done wicked things with his tongue. _Oh god_ that tongue.

"Figured I could find you here." Draco chuckled at the sight of her. Desperately puffing at her cigarette, with a puzzled look on her face. Her brown curly hair was tamed, shiny. The freckles on her nose allured him, made him want to plant kisses on her nose, along her jawline, further down …

He licked his lips absentmindedly. _Hermione Granger._ She looked older, more mature in a black appropriate dress and sensible heels. She was a sight for sore eyes.

Draco was unsure though, he had heard she had ended up with the Weasel, and frankly it had both surprised him and also not. He had wondered if the red-haired git had been able to make her moan the way he had. He doubted it wholeheartedly.

Draco had known she would be there, it had been one of the reasons he had so politely accepted McGonogall's invitation. In honesty, it had been the _only_ reason.

Her brown eyes looked up at him, shocked, pleased? He remembered other times when her fiery brown eyes had gazed up on him. The length between his legs twitched.

Control, he disciplined himself.

Hermione realised she hadn't answered him, she'd been occupied by drowning in his eyes. She cleared her throat and tossed the cigarette aside. Biting her bottom lip.

"I have a room at the Three broomsticks," she said, words pouring out of her mouth, evidently an invitation, sounding wrong coming out of her mouth. She was climbing for the Minister of Magic position after all. But the way he looked at her, had her melting already. His eyes radiated pure lust a promise of pleasure, and she was all for it.

Her words shocked him. No exchanging pleasantries? He quickly decided if this was the route she wanted to take, he would gladly go down it with her.

"Coincidentally, so do I," he said, and not so much reached for her hand, but grabbed it. Hard. As soon as they stepped outside the gates they disapparated to the front door of the Three Broomsticks, there was no time to waste.

They both wanted the same thing.


	2. Desperate desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, as they return to the Three Broomsticks to pick up where they left off before parting ways three years ago.

Hermione was baffled by the mere thought of where she had ended up, or more, in what position she'd ended up. She hadn't expected Draco Malfoy to show up at Hogwarts, and even less had she expected to find herself pinned to a wall by him in her room at the Three broomsticks.

It was all very exciting and stupid at the same time.

Her back was against the wall, right next to the door, his hands on either side of her face, his body pressed tightly against hers. He was kissing down her jawline, her collarbone, her neck. It sent shivers down her spine. Draco put his lips on hers, and the feeling in her lower abdomen was all too familiar. His lips were soft against hers, eager, passionate.

His hand found her throat and gripped it gently, she gasped, opening up her mouth to him. When his tongue slipped inside her mouth, massaging hers, her knees buckled. He tasted of the champagne they had consumed at dinner.

No one ever made her feel so weak. It was more than rare for someone to make her usually busy brain so … empty, allowing her to surrender to the moment, his touch.

Draco relished in the sounds she made, he gripped her throat, careful not to grip it too tight, not yet. He remembered how it used to be between them and he was adamant to prove he could still make her into a puddled mess. He felt satisfied just making her grind against him, making her surrender to him. He took pride in being the only one to make Hermione Granger submit. He growled in her ear and gripped her neck tighter, still careful not to restrict her breathing too much. In this moment, she was his. He knew that.

He had always figured her to be a prude, but how wrong he had been. She was a vixen, desperate to feel his hands all over her, to lose control. It made sense to him, the woman was always in control outside of the bedroom. He knew what she needed, what she wanted. A way to escape the grinding wheels in her mind, to let someone else take control.

If nothing the wetness in her knickers all but proved it. Still gripping her throat, he reached down with one hand under her dress, he could feel the wetness through the thin fabric, her knickers were already soaked, and he hadn't even touched any of the crucial spots yet.

It made his cock twitch. He couldn't wait to be buried deep inside of her. He'd longed for it ever since they parted ways three years ago. He had yet to find another woman to have sex with in this way. Sure, they would submit to him, be good little girls, but it was never as satisfying as having Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, on her knees for him, begging.

No there was nothing quite like that.

_Fuck, he’d missed this._

He could tell she was still thinking and overthinking the situation and that simply would not do.

"My, my, so wet for me, and I haven't even begun yet," he whispered in her ear. She whimpered. He smirked at her, satisfied. Her eyes practically begged him for more.

"Tell me what you want," Draco demanded, he needed her to be fully out of her head, no more overthinking tonight.

Hermione felt conflicted. This whole thing might be a mistake, it had taken her a long time to reconcile with the fact that her future held ordinary, boring sex with, most likely, Ron, for the rest of her life. She'd never known before just how much she needed to have her body exhausted in this type of way. After Draco, she had found it to be hard even having an orgasm with anyone else. It had been one of the reasons she and Ron had broken it off. They were not compatible in bed, and even if he’d tried to accomadate her deseries, it just didn't come natural to him.

Ron could never fulfill her need like this, and she hated she had to be in control in all areas in life with him, even in the bedroom. People would usually mistake her dominant personality, thinking it would seep through into the bedroom. For a while she had almost thought so herself. Now she knew it was very much the opposite though, and it had taken her a war and a certain blonde to realise what she actually craved. It had been an epiphany of sorts for her, realizing who she wanted to be between the sheets, what she needed from a man to come undone. Reaching ecstasy when also having to be in control left her a prisoner in her head, unable to fully relax and commit to the situation at hand. It really took the fun out of being pounded.

When Draco's fingers graced her knickers she blushed at his words. Yes, she was aware she was wet, and yes, he had not even really touched her yet. It was mortifying and arousing all at the same time, and it effectively snapped her out of her own head. He demanded she'd till him what she wanted.

"I'- I, please," was all she managed, and it made her feel even more mortified. How was she losing her speech? She was always quick on the tongue, she never stuttered. At least not with anyone else. Draco laughed in her ear, the kind of laugh that sent vibrations through her body and made her want to drop to her knees for him.

"Already lost for words?" Draco was amused, she could hear it clearly in his voice.

"Just touch me!" Hermione pleaded, it was really pathetic.

"Like this?" he asked and drew his fingers up and down the top of her thigh, avoiding the parts that ached for his touch.

"Please. No, you know where", she said dumbly. He chuckled.

"Tell me, beg for it." His voice was husky, and she could see the lust in his grey eyes as they studied her.

He wanted her to beg.

Her core was throbbing, desperate for some kind of relief. She would beg if she had to.

"Please, touch me, fuck me, make me cum. Please." She couldn't bother feeling ashamed at her own words. She needed it so badly. Just the thought of his cock, entering her, stretching her. 

_Oh please have mercy._

Draco cocked his head to the side. Amazed by her begging. He pulled her knickers to the side and slid a finger up and down between her lips. He had not been wrong. She was practically dripping. He felt himself harden instantly. Control. He had to control himself or else he would just rip off her clothes and fuck her hard against the wall.

That would be a pity, wouldn’t it? He wanted to savour it, not rush it too much.

When he finally touched her, pulled her underwear to the side, she felt like her knees would give out. He dragged a finger over her wetness, still teasing her, still not giving in to her pleads, until he did. He thrust one finger, then two inside of her wet heat, playing with her clit with his thumb.

Hermione moaned and threw her head back against the wall. Had it not been for his hand around her throat she might have collapsed on the floor. She placed her hands on his sculpted chest, unbuttoning his shirt. It was a futile attempt, seeing as she could barely stand.

Draco pulled his fingers out, and she whimpered at the emptiness. He helped her remove his shirt, baring his sculpted torso for her pleasure. She kissed and licked on his battle scar above his chest, his nipple, his jaw, earning a low growl from the back of his throat. She loved it when he sounded like that, when his hair was messy and she could tell she was not the only one losing self control. He pulled the straps of her dress down her shoulders, and just like that it pooled around her ankles. She quickly stepped out of it. Feeling pleased with her self for at least wearing matching underwear, a red set she had picked up a few weeks ago, to treat herself.

She tugged at his trousers, fumbling with the zipper. Draco didn't stop her. Found it rather amusing how her fingers were shaking. He also very much enjoyed her fingers so close to his erection. When he'd stepped out of his trousers he dropped to his knees, his head resting just in front of her red lace panties. He gripped the sides of them and freed her from the fabric. Hermione moaned in anticipation, not at all embarrassed when she gripped his head and pushed it towards herself.

"I have no patience left," she explained when he looked up at her, because this was usally the part when he'd tell her to have patience. She had none. Not today. She was panting and he looked way too amused.

He smirked. That damn smirk, she used to find it appalling, now she felt herself becoming unravelled by the mere sight of it. It was everything about him, his lean fingers, the way he growled, his words, the way his eyes looked at her, patronizing, amused and pleased at the same time.

Hermione groaned.

Draco used his hands to spread her legs for him. Allowing him full access to her. He slid three digits into her, hard, pumping fast, he could feel her body tense, unprepared for the rough treatment. He relished in the sounds she made, and tasted her with his tounge.

Merlin she tasted just the same as he remembered. Like drugs, addictive, sweet and salty combined. He liked and sucked on her clit, while keeping a steady pace with his fingers inside of her, pressing on her G-spot. Draco placed his free arm around her waist, caressing her arse before holding her around her hip, pushing her closer to him. By the way her hands were tugging at his hair, and the moans she made, he knew she was close.

"That's it. Cum for me, show me how much you've missed this," he commanded, speaking directly into her core.

Hermione could feel his lips on her while he spoke, and combined with the assault of his fingers and his demanding voice sent her straight over the edge. Her entire body shook with pleasure.

"Oh, Draco!" was all she could manage to say, it came out as a moan. Had it not been for his arm wrapped around her hip she would be on the floor, a panting mess. Draco wasted no time, he pulled her by her waist, and as they reached the edge of the bed, he pushed her down. He spread her legs and pulled her to the edge.

Draco loved the sight he had in front of him. She was exquisite. He licked his fingers clean of her juices, and kept eye contact with her. Wanting her to see him taste her.

"Please," she said, her lips parted, her chest heaving fast up and down. He freed her breasts from the red fabric. He used one hand to play with her nipple, and sucked and bit on her other. She was writhing underneath him, desperate for friction.

"So eager still, never satisfied. Always begging for more," he mumbled against her breast. He heard another 'please' and he decided he should put them both out of their misery.

He pulled off his boxers, and dragged his hand over himself a few times in anticipation, and then lined himself by her entrance. Teasing her with the head if his cock, sliding it up and down between her wet lips.

Merlin he had missed her tight little pussy. Always wet, always gripping him hard. He pushed into her and bit down on her nipple at the same time. He barely had time to stretch her fully before he could feel her orgasm.

"Fuck, Draco!" she called out. Her core clamped around him and he kept moving inside of her through her climax. Her dainty hands were gripping his shoulders, desperate to cling to something.

"Good girl," he encouraged as she arched her back and threw her head back. As her orgasm subsided, Draco could move easier inside of her, he increased his speed, thrusting hard into her, as deep as possible in their position.

He pushed her legs wider, closer to her body, allowing him to go deeper. Feel more of her.

He wanted to make her cum one more time before he did. Draco felt his own orgasm building. So he moved his fingers in circles over her clit, he could tell she was already exhausted from having had two orgasms already. But he knew she could do it.

Just one more.

Draco thrust hard into her. Hermione was unable to think, she was already so sensitive. He drove into her vigorously, and it felt so damn good. When he started to rub her clit she screamed. It was too much, too good. But she didn't know if she had it in her to come again, she was already tired. Still undeniably, she could feel her next orgasm forming, she tried to reach for it. She did her best to thrust her hips, to meet him. But it was hard to keep up.

He used one hand to push down hard on the lower part of her stomach. Fuck, it made her feel every inch of him inside of her. It felt overwhelming, intense, and so so fucking good.

"You're going to cum for me again, aren't you? Your such a slut," he growled, next to her ear. His breath felt warm against her skin. Her body on fire. She could feel drops of sweat forming on her forehead. Her only reply was a desperate whimper and nails digging into his back. Leaving crescent marks. She closed her eyes.

Unable to form words, she screamed as her orgasm took her over. Everything went black, and she was barely aware when he released his own orgasm deep inside of her.

Hermione's body went limp, he waited a moment before removing himself from her wet entrance. As he did, he watched how their combined juices leaked out of her.

Now, that, that was a sight.

He pulled her body further up the bed, allowing her head to lean on a soft pillow, and pressed his body thight againt her back. Cradeling her body with his arms.

Hermione felt Draco moving her. She loved this part, even if she didn't want to admit it to herself. But the feeling of him, his arms wrapped around her, skin against skin. It felt safe. Comforting after the words he'd used, how he'd used her body. She would probably spiral if he'd left.

She felt herself drifting to sleep when he placed a few soft kisses on her head.

Draco heard her breathing steadying, and allowed himself to relax his head against one of the pillows. Without moving his body, he reached for the covers of the bed and covered them in warmth as their body temperature slowly sank.

Content. That's what he felt when he looked at her messy hair and felt her limp body tight against his. He had succeeded, indeed, in making a mess of her tonight.

He fell asleep with a satisfied grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you found it to you liking!
> 
> Please feel free to leave you comments!


	3. Attending class

Hermione yawned quietly, peering through lidded eyes at her surroundings. Draco's arm rested heavy around her waist. She glanced out the one window in the room at the Three broomsticks, it was still dark outside. Slowly she removed herself from Draco's tight grip, he groaned but didn't wake.

Quietly, she pulled her lavender satin robe on, tied it quickly and grabbed her pack of cigarettes along with her wand.

The night air felt crisp, cold against her skin. From the balcony she had a wonderful view of the castle, her old school. It was amazing how well they had managed to restore it after the final battle. It looked untouched. She'd almost preferred if it still had some imperfections left. Now it just looked like the war had never happened there. It didn't match the images that'd been etched into her mind.

She slid a cigarette out of the pack and put it between her lips, using her wand to light it. She inhaled deep into her lungs, before exhaling, covering the air in front of her with smoke.

A smile crept up on her when her thighs rubbed together and she could feel how sore she was from the earlier intrusion. Merlin had she missed this. She wouldn't go so far as to admit she had missed him. But I was undeniable now, how inadequate intercourse with Ron had been. She had tried to convince herself that what she'd experienced with Draco had just been a faze, something to put her together after the war. Supposedly the war had changed her in too many ways. The Hermione that once only cared for her schoolwork and being top of the class, silently fancying her best friend was gone. Replaced by a much more complicated persona. With Draco she never felt she had to hide the hurt, the bruises and scars to both body and mind, with Ron she'd tried to force herself into the person she'd once been. It hadn't been pretty.

There were only a few stars visible on the dark sky, and the moon seemed brighter than usual, almost a full moon. She leaned against the balcony rack, placing her arms on top of it, balancing and ashtray next to her on the railing. Enjoying the view and the nicotine rush.

Draco woke to find an empty bed next to him. It took him a few seconds to orient himself. He opened his eyes to see Hermione through the window of the balcony door, leaning against the railing, her ass sticking out as she leaned in the most alluring way. If only her satin robe had been a little shorter. She stood in a cloud of smoke. He was not surprised she had not yet given up on that vice. He knew she had done drugs as well, straight after the war, and he couldn't blame her, he was almost sure though, that she'd quit that before they parted ways. Replacing the drugs with endless nights of shagging instead.

He didn't bother putting underwear on, and pulled on his trousers and transformed his shirt into a jumper, pulled it over his head to join her on the balcony.

Hermione's head turned towards the door when it opened. Shooting Draco a smile. He couldn't help but give her arse a gentle smack as he went to stand beside her. She whimpered and then preceded to offer him a cigarette which he quickly lit with his wand.

By the look of the sky and the darkness surrounding them he guessed it was still night, possibly early morning.

"I hear your work is going well," Hermione said between puffs. By the look of the ashtray balancing on the balcony rack this was her second cigarette.

"Indeed it is," Draco affirmed while knocking some ash from the tip of the cigarette.

"Do you like it?"

Draco considered her question for a brief moment before answering. "I do, it's a lot more satisfying doing something on my own. And it seems as the work we're doing are changing things, so there's that." Meaning he was glad to be out from under his father, doing something by himself, not relying on the family name to get places.

Hermione hummed. "You really are. Your work is the talk at the Ministry, did you know? They're practically praising your work abroad, especially with MACUSA," Hermione said and couldn't help but sound impressed.

Draco shot her his usual smirk. "Been hearing about be a lot have you?" Hermione blushed and Draco wondered how she could be shy after what they'd done just hours ago. He didn't wait for her answer; it really wasn't a question after all. "I've read about you in the Prophet, seems as though your career is well underway. Soon to be the next, and first, female Minister of magic."

"And the youngest," she added jokingly. Draco chuckled.

"And the youngest," he repeated.

Hermione shook her head, making her curls bounce around her face. "No, well, that is my goal, but it's not a sure thing yet. I still have to prove myself worthy of the position, and passing the new marital law reform is a step in that direction."

She'd been working hard, months on end, to try and get the Ministry to pass her marital reform, a reform that would remove some of the oldest wizarding laws regarding marriage between muggles and wizards or witches. It was a particularly hard one to pass, since one of the most imperative laws in the wizarding legal system was the Secrecy Act. Her reform would lift some of the Secrecy Act invoked in marriages between muggles and wizards or witches. She felt strongly about it, hoping it would send a message to the wizarding world to be more accepting of muggles, something she felt essential to highlight post-war.

Draco nodded. He wasn't sure where he stood in the debate of the reform. She'd surely met a lot of resistance, most of it from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he'd heard. His own father was very much against it, no surprise there. He himself felt conflicted, he understood the need for the reform, the current law had been in motion for centuries, and it was long overdue to update it, adapt it, but he also felt it was a bit radical.

"If anyone can pass it, it would be you," he said, and it came out a little more affectionately than he had meant, so he focused his gaze on the castle in the distance.

Hermione was surprised by his answer, she knew he probably didn't support the reform fully, didn't think him able to.

"Maybe… fingers crossed," she said and Draco found it was a very muggle thing to say. He tapped his cigarette into the ashtray, carefully, as not to tip it over the edge. Hermione did the same.

They decided to try and get some more sleep before breakfast, they were both going to sit in on a few classes the next day, McGonogall had expressed interest in getting their opinions on some of the new hires.

They undressed and lay back on the bed. Hermione felt a bit uncomfortable being naked now, without the exhaustion of having had sex, but when he pulled her close to his chest and she felt his naked body tight against her backside, she relaxed.

Draco had always loved to cuddle, and being naked was never something that bothered him. He saw nothing wrong in pulling Hermione close to his body, to take full advantage of the softness of her skin. He fondled her breast with one hand, and nipped at her earlobe with his teeth. She moved her hips in response teasing his cock.

"I thought we were going to sleep," she protested. But it really wasn't a complaint.

"We are. Don't mind me. Just getting comfortable," Draco lolled.

"I can't sleep when you touch me like that," she cooed.

"Fine." Not really having it in him to go again anyways. He just cradled her closely instead.

Draco left in the morning; he decided he needed a shower and clean clothes from his suitcase in his room.

"Meet me for breakfast downstairs?" he asked before leaving, as he zipped his trousers. Hermione was already in the bathroom, getting the shower running. She was a bit surprised by his question. They had shagged, and slept together, many times, but it was very rare for them to share any kind of meals together. They'd kept everything very physical.

She pondered it for a second before deciding, they were older now, more mature, and they would most likely both want breakfast downstairs in the restaurant as opposed to at Hogwarts, it'd just be awkward to sit at different tables.

"I'll see you there in twenty?" she called from the bathroom.

"Sounds good," Draco answered and she soon heard the door closing behind him.  
__

The warm water felt nice on her skin, she lathered up her hair with her favourite shampoo, she'd found it really helpful to her curls. She felt revitalised when she finished, and reached for Sleekeazy's hair potion to tame the curls one extra step. There was no harm in looking a little extra representable when she was to sit in on the Defense against the dark arts class after breakfast.

She made quick work of her clothes, having had limited options made it easier. When she'd decided on a grey skirt, thin black pantyhose, ending on the upper part of her thigh and a loose fitted deep purple satin blouse, she hurried down the stairs. Spritzing her favourite perfume on as she walked before putting it back into her handbag.

Draco was already seated in one of the booths, sipping a cup of black coffee. As Hermione sat down the booth filled with her delicate perfume. He really enjoyed that scent on her. It made him want to skip breakfast and fuck her senseless. Draco decided it would probably not be a good idea. He could toy with her a bit still, using words only. He'd never had the opportunity to do that in a public place before. It could be fun.

Hermione exhaled loudly and glanced at the menu. She decided on some scrambled eggs with toast and some English breakfast tea. Their orders arrived quickly. There was a handful of people in the restaurant, most of them being other guests staying at the inn.

Last night almost didn't feel real, she'd had no intention of ending up sleeping in his arms, and she wondered how he felt about it. She glanced up at him while warming her hands on her teacup. He was already staring at her when she looked up, she was unable to read his eyes. Was he amused?

The blonde hair lay neatly on his head, not a single strand of hair out of place. She watched his throat move as he swallowed a bite of his food. Even the way he gripped his cup of coffee did something to her. Draco could feel her eyes on him as he sipped his coffee, and when he bit into his toast. Subtle wasn't her strong suit he realised. Or maybe she wasn't aware of how much she stared. He decided to have fun with it, put on a show.

He let out a low groan when he swallowed the coffee, like he'd craved caffeine for weeks on end without having it. He licked his lips and hummed in appreciation when he took another bite of his toast.

"Delicious." He grinned, not missing how she shifted in her seat and tugged at one of her brown curls.

"Although your cunt last night was unquestionably delectable," he continued and cocked his head to the side. Eyes glued to her to see her response. Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she crossed and uncrossed her legs twice. Her cheeks turning an undeniable shade of red.

"Shh, Malfoy, that is so crass!" Hermione blamed.

"Oh but it was, I assure you," he replied in all seriousness. It only made her blush harder. Well this was fun, Draco thought to himself. It had a positive effect on her, seeing as she was squirming in her seat. She sipped her tea and avoided his gaze.

Hermione contemplated her reply while savouring her tea. She decided two could play at this game. Or so she thought.

"Well, let me tell you, that your cock was-" she stopped, unable to complete the sentence. It felt more than wrong coming out of her mouth, and while having breakfast too. It amused him greatly to hear her struggle for words.

Hermione Granger, having trouble finding words, it pleased him more than she could ever know.

Draco was quick to reply. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his head on his fist. "Yes, do continue, tell me all about how my cock was last night," he encouraged her.

Merlin she wanted to smack that grin off of his face right about now.

"Oh shut it!" she bellowed. There was no denying how he affected her, she could feel the wetness building in her knickers.

He chuckled and Hermione wanted to punch him and fuck him at the same time.

Draco returned to his food, a bit cold now, but it had been worth it.

The classroom for defence against the dark arts was filled to the brim, seemed as if no students were skipping class today. Harry Potter had been offered the teaching position but had declined and instead chosen the career as an auror. Professor McGonogall's choice had instead landed on a former auror, Hedda Albright. Hermione had only met her briefly at the Ministry, before Hedda had left her position there to teach at Hogwarts. From what she's heard she was doing a good job.

There had been two seats assigned to Draco and Hermione at the far back of the classroom, seeing as they were primarily there to observe. Draco looked stoic in his black trousers and grey cashmere polo neck, it brought out his eyes in ways Hermione didn't want to think about.

"Good morning students, please give a warm welcome to our guests today. Mr Draco Malfoy and Miss Hermione Granger," Professor Albright said and gestured to the two of them at the back of the classroom. The students shifted in their seats to have a look at them. Hermione crossed her legs and straightened her back, Draco however, leaned heavily against the back of the chair with one foot resting on opposite leg. Arms crossed. Looking completely unapproachable.

"Why don't we let the two introduce themselves? Mr Malfoy, do tell us a bit about yourself."

Hermione felt unprepared, but she had never been shy to speak in the classrooms of Hogwarts and now was not any different.

Draco uncrossed his arms and leaned forward slightly, looking over the sea of students who were going to hurt their necks if they kept staring so intently over their shoulders.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. So as Professor Albright just said, I'm here as a guest today to observe class. I graduated a few years ago, did my N.E.W.T.S post war. Two years ago I started my own diplomacy agency, D.M Unity, working primarily with post war efforts across the wizarding community, in ways aiding the Ministry of Magic to reconnect with wizarding societies outside of Britain. It means I get to travel a lot for work, never staying in one place too long, and form diplomatic relations."

"Wonderful, I have heard a lot about your work, and I'm sure some of our students have as well. Post-war efforts are crucial to re-establish Britain's standing in the wizarding community. It makes for interesting work." Albright praised. "Now, any questions for Mr Malfoy?" Her eyes searched over the crowd of students. They all had their eyes glued to Draco.

A boy in Gryffindor robes raised his hand and Albright gave the word to him.

"You were a death eater, how, doesn't that conflict with your current work?" the boy asked. It was a brave, albeit annoying, question Draco thought, and of course it had come from a Gryffindor. At least the kid had the decency to mention his death eater status in past tense. He let no emotion show as he answered, not bothering sounding too polite.

"Insightful. And yes, I was a death eater. And to say it has no bearing on my work would be a lie, it only makes my work that more important I would say. It also makes for interesting conversations." He drawled. Not mentioning how many times he'd snapped at people for insinuating he was only doing his work to mend the Malfoy reputation.

Hermione watched Draco intensely as he spoke, thinking it was a good answer. Reckoning he most likely had met a lot of resistance in the beginning. She'd heard rumours of people finding his efforts selfish and assuming he'd started his diplomatic work solely for the purpose of exonerating himself. She didn't give in to rumours, neither was she stupid enough to think there was no selfishness involved at all.

Some other students asked a few questions, all of them regarding his stance in the war, except for a few Slytherin's who asked more personal questions, like where he lived and if he was in fact dating Astoria Greengrass. It had been the talk for a while, and pictures of them had been floating around in wizarding magazines. Hermione wondered about that one herself, but she would never admit to it nor ask him about it. It was none of her business. Not really.

Malfoy answered the questions like a politician, giving nothing away.

"Thank you Mr Malfoy," Professor Albright said, turning her head towards Hermione.

She caught the hint.

"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm currently working in the department of family law at the Ministry of Magic." She continued to explain her work and some of the laws she had managed to pass during her time there.

A Ravenclaw student asked her about the new reform she was trying to pass, so she spoke a bit about that, highlighting that it would be a more difficult one to pass, and why that was. She also got a few non-questions that were more compliments towards her efforts during the war, and a few questions regarding her and Ron that made her uncomfortable, along with some about being friends with Harry Potter.

It occurred to Hermione that some students had more insight into her life than she would like, and that some saw her as kind of a celebrity, which just felt absurd.

The class continued and the student's reluctantly shifted their focus to Professor Albright's lesson. They paired up for duels and Hermione and Draco were asked to participate, walk around and give their suggestions and advice. Hermione noticed that the Slyterhin's were eager for advice from Draco, but the rest mostly wanted her attention. She pondered whether Draco's reputation as a former death eater would ever subside.

__ 

When class ended Draco went to the library to return a book he'd had since his sixth year, earning a shove on his shoulder and a scolding from Hermione.

She stepped outside for a moment, thinking she had deserved a cigarette break after all those inane questions about her love life. She decided on a spot hidden from view, not wanting to be a bad influence on the students.

Surrounded by bushes, she conjured a blanket and sat down on the grass, using a drying spell first to make sure the grass was not wet.

As she smoked she overheard two girls talking, and couldn't help but to sharpen her ears to listen in when she heard her name than Draco's. From what she heard, they had attended the DADA class this morning.

"I can't believe McGonogall invited a former death eater," one of the girls said horrified. "But don't get me wrong. I'm not that mad about it really."

"He was cleared of all charges," the other girl countered. And Hermione nodded where she sat.

"Yeah, and at least he's not bad too look at right?" she said and giggled.

"I'd snog him," the other girl replied without hesitation. Hermione gasped. These were sixth years for Merlin's sake!

"Definitely! But did you hear his reply when Danielle asked about him and Astoria Greengrass?"

"He really did dodge that question fully, it must mean there's something between them. Don't you think?"

"Well yeah, obviously, he almost looked uncomfortable. And I mean. It's Draco Malfoy, he never looks uncomfortable."

As if she knew him well enough to know.

Hermione stopped listening then. Lightning another cigarette as her mind raced. Were students this prone to gossip during her time at Hogwarts? Then she remembered Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, they did gossip a lot. She felt a sting in her stomach at the memory of the girls and an image of Lavender's scared eyes, as she lay lifeless on the floor of the Great Hall, in the row of the dead.

The war would never leave her fully.


	4. Caught off guard

"Hermione Granger!" Hermione startled when she heard the Headmistress voice. She had been spotted.

Hiding the cigarette behind her back was truly a futile attempt since McGongalls eyes already had caught sight of the glowing stick between her fingers before she had the chance. Hermione did her best not to act like a child who had been caught by her teacher. She was an adult after all. Free to make her one choices.

Even bad ones.

McGonocall looked utterly disappointed and it made Hermione feel guilty. She wasn't oblivious to how bad smoking was, but she lived in Britain after all, and smoking amongst muggles wasn't all that uncommon.

"That thing will dig you an early grave you know," the Headmistress critiqued and Hermione nodded. She was aware albeit in denial about it.

She felt a sudden urge to defend herself. "I'm grown enough to make my own choices", Hermione exclaimed while standing up. Not wanting to be seated while having this conversation.

"Yes. I suppose I expected more from you" McGonogall said, sounding a little regretful for her outburst, she had probably been shocked, seeing Hermione seated with a cigarette in hand did not mesh well with the image the Headmistress had of Hermione during her school years.

Hermione felt her chest constricting at McGonocall's words. Expected. That was the problem wasn't it. She was downright tired of people expecting her to be a certain way, expecting her to be like before. Harry and Ron had tried that after the war to no avail. In her defence, neither Harry nor Ron had to endure the torture she did at Malfoy manor, they hadn't lived their entire lives trying to live up to a perfect image in order to fit in, to belong, to earn a place in the wizarding world as a muggle-born. They weren't bullied and taunted for their blood, and their skin wasn't carved with that awful word, not branded like livestock, not like her.

Hermione was seething, but it wasn't really about the headmistress as much as the source for her bad habits.

Her gaze landed on her shoes.

McGonogall broke the silence when Hermione didn't reply. "I can't tell you what to do. You are one of the brightest witches I ever had the pleasure teaching." She walked closer to Hermione and put one hand on the young witch's shoulder in an attempt to steady her. Noticing there was something going on in her mind. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way. I am only wanting the best for you, and it has not gone unnoticed with me that you've experienced troubles post-war. It's understandable. I'm not saying it to judge you but neither will I pretend I approve of such behaviour. You are no longer my student but I consider you a friend." McGonogall continued, eying Hermione with serious eyes, old and wise.

Hermione warmed at the words, calmed down a few notches, but couldn't help but still felt attacked.

"Yes. Even though work is progressing well and I'm very invested in my career, there are still things from the war that are still with me, everyday in different ways. It's a coping mechanism." Hermione explained, thinking she'd summarized it well considering she rarely let those thoughts in. Saying the words out loud felt effective, forced her to realise maybe she still had some recovery to do. The realisation only made her more annoyed by the absurdity of the conversation.

"If you think less of me for it then so be it." Hermione said, hoping she didn't. She had the utmost respect for the Headmistress.

McGonocall's expression softened at her words. And Hermione exhaled for what felt like ages.

"I could never think less of you Hermione. I care for your wellbeing. That is all," Mcgonocall said calmly, caressing her shoulder with her hand.

Hermione was still rattled by the confrontation by her former teacher, she felt as though she was fifteen again, having points deducted from Gryffindor house for antics with Harry and Ron.

As she walked the halls of Hogwarts she almost felt ill. She looked at the repaired classrooms to her left, remembering how they'd looked when she'd run off with Ron to the Chamber of secrets during the battle. The walls had been torn to pieces, stones crumbled on the floor along with injured body's, spells of all colours shooting everywhere around.

She stopped in her steps, resting her back against a wall and closed her eyes. She needed to calm down or she'd have a panic attack. She needed something to take her mind off of the images that flooded her mind. She rarely let herself get carried away with memories of the war, but the conversation with McGonogall had triggered it, and it didn't help that she found herself at the very place of the final battle.

She took a few deep breaths and smoothed her skirt. Gripping her wand tightly. Students began rushing out of the classrooms next to her, she steadied herself as much as she could, and walked the familiar path to the library, it had always been her sanctuary after all. Maybe a book would help her thoughts stop racing.

As she walked she regretted her shoes, her heels made a lot of noise against the stone floor, and earned many glances from curious students as she hurried past. She could only hope she looked more calm on the outside than she felt on the inside.

The library was busy with students from all houses and Hermione wondered if she'd ever seen so many people in the library during her time at Hogwarts.

She noticed a lot on eyes on her as she entered and tried to shoot smiles to the curious students, stopping to interact with a few of them, giving some advice on the draught of living death, a potion they were writing an essay on. It helped take her mind off things, if only for a short time.

The atmosphere in the library made her heart rate steady. The never ending rows of bookshelves, filled with books and knowledge felt familiar, in a good way, the kind of way that warmed her heart. She stalked towards the more secluded parts of the library, hoping to find a book she could humour herself with until lunchtime. She and Draco were to attend herbology class next, and she looked forward to catching up with Neville Longbottom, her old friend, and now a Hogwarts professor. Maybe she could even try and find him and ask to have lunch together, for old times sake.

When she was away from the students prying eyes, the conversation with McGonogall flooded her brain again, and she hugged herself with her arms. She needed a book for distraction.

Draco was perusing the arithmancy bookshelf at the far end of the library. He'd been stopped a few times on his way there, by students, asking him questions, or wanting to welcome him to Hogwarts. Mostly Slyterhin's. He was certain some students whispered about him as he walked past and he did his best to ignore them, even though he overheard his name and Astoria's more times than he liked.

He was aware of what people were thinking, that the two of them were a couple. Never having read any gossip magazines himself, he was not entirely sure as to what had been written, but he'd caught the gist of it. His friend Blaise Zabini had jokingly called to congratulate him on being engaged, it caused Draco to choke on his tea. In ways the gossip was flattering. Astoria Greengrass was a stunning woman, there was no denying that. It was her personality he didn't care for, that and the fact she'd led him on for several months, only to break it off because she thought being seen with him would ruin her reputation in the pureblood circles. He would never admit to being hurt about it, but it hadn't been all that great either.

Astoria was not the only pureblood that found Draco's work with D.M Unity a betrayal to the cause, as they call it. The cause being the very thing that blew up into war. He didn't take offence in general though. Draco had not been committed to the cause in a long time, possibly even partially before the war ended. He didn't identify Harry Potter when the trio showed up at Malfoy Manor, captured by snatchers. To this day, he still wasn't entirely certain as to why that was.

Draco was focusing a book on arithmancy in his hands, studying a numerical chart when he caught wind of the same scent he'd smelled this morning at breakfast.

He looked up to find Hermione's curly hair as she rounded a bookshelf. Draco followed. She was leaning against a shelf with her hands wrapped around herself, looking deep in thought. Hermione glanced up at him, startled by his presence. Her mood seemed low in comparison to when she'd scolded him outside of the DADA classroom for having the audacity to hog a book for so many years without returning it.

He treaded with caution, not wanting to stick around if she was going to get emotional. He didn't do well with his own emotions, less someone else's. He walked towards her anyways; part of him did want to find out what was going on. He didn't comprehend just why that was.

Hermione pulled at his polo jumper with both hands, and before he could complain that she was stretching the fabric of his favourite cashmere clothing, her lips smacked onto his. The interaction startled him, but he leaned into the kiss when the surprise of it subsided. The kiss itself felt different, demanding, it affected his lower parts all the same. She moaned into his mouth, it made him want to ravish her, right there right now, but he didn't. Her tongue slipped into his mouth with vigour and he was quick to respond, deepening their kiss. She tasted of the breath mint she still had. Draco placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her body closer and they were both unaware of the one Ravenclaw student walking by in search for the arithmancy shelf.

They didn't stop until they ran out of oxygen. Both of them breathed heavily. Hermione looked up at him, and there was a moment of stillness.

Draco gathered himself. "What's that about?" he asked, his chest heaving visibly affected. He bit down on the breath mint he now had inside of his mouth, making a crunching sound.

"I don't know," Hermione answered, looking frazzled.

Draco was still confused from being caught off guard. "I'm not complaining. Fantasy of yours? Snogging in the library?" he teased to defuse the tension.

"I wasn't- I didn't snog you," she complained. Blushing faintly.

"Sure did," he continued teasing. It was strange. They never really just snogged so he wanted to make a point of it.

"If you must know. McGonogall had some things to say about me smoking, and I didn't enjoy that so much," Hermione reluctantly explained. "And then, here you were, probably stalking me or whatever, and I just wanted to kiss you," she shrugged her shoulders, looking completely indifferent.

"I was not stalking you Hermione." Draco growled. Hermione rolled her eyes at him. It only made him want to pin her against the bookshelf to see if she'd dare do it again. "And what's this thing about McGonogall?"

"As I said. She saw me smoking and had a thing or two to say about," she said and proceeded to mumble something unintelligible under her breath.

"About time," Draco said without thinking. Regretting his words as soon as they were spoken. He didn't want to get involved with her habits they didn't bother him. It shouldn't. I wasn't as though the two of them cared that way for each other. Hermione's mouth fell open at his words.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him sternly, all the heat from their snogging session gone. He was suddenly reminded that this was the woman who'd trapped Rita Skeeter in a jar in her animagus form. She really could be terrifying when she wanted to.

He contemplated his answer, as to not repeat his mistake and avoid a second scolding today. "I just thought you'd given those up by now. I'm aware I shared one with you last night, and I don't see anything wrong with enjoying such things on occasion, it's just not good in the long run."

Hermione looked baffled by his words. And declared she was going to try and find Neville Longbottom, to have lunch, and then she hurried off, hitting her heels hard against the floor as she did.

Draco reckoned he might have crossed a line. When they used to meet up post-war he never gave his thoughts on her habits, it wasn't his place, and it still wasn't. When they met it was for fun, even though unspoken scars and traumas undeniably had been present throughout.

They had never been friends or romantically involved, so it was easy to keep it physical, taking what they needed from the other person, without judgment. Finding comfort in the one person that wouldn't try and mould them back to who they used to be, like his mother and father tried to with him, like Ron and Harry demanded from her. Draco had never cared for the person Hermione was before war, and didn't know her well enough to want her to go back to whoever that was. Draco presumed it was the same for Hermione. They simply lacked reason, not expecting anything from the other person in the way friends and family do.

Hermione wandered to the Herbology classroom to see if she could find Neville. Accompanied by yet another conversation to overthink. It had almost sounded as if he cared. She was unsure if she found it flattering or abysmal.

When she found Neville he was concentrated fully on the mandrake in front of him. She knocked on the wall as she entered the space, to not startle him. She hoped for dear life he was not about to pull it out of its pot since she was not wearing any protective gear over her ears.

"Hermione!" he called, beaming when he heard her knock.

"Neville, how are you?" she asked, smiling back and walking further into the classroom. "How's Hannah?"

"We're both good, thank you. How are you?" he asked while embracing her in a suffocating hug. Hermione felt her worries wafting away at the mere sight of her old friend. He looked healthy, clearly fitting right in as the new herbology professor.

"Oh I'm glad to hear! I'm good too thank you," she said taking a step back from the hug. "I know me and Dra- Malfoy will be sitting in as guests in your class this afternoon, but I wondered if you are free now? We could have some lunch, catch up?" It probably would not have been a big deal to call him Draco instead of using his surname, but she was not sure how Neville felt about him, he had been pretty brutal towards Neville during their school years. If Neville noticed, he didn't seem to care, he still had a big smile plastered on his face.

"I have time. As professor I have the privilege of using the floo network. How about lunch at the Leaky Cauldron?" Neville suggested while tugging a hand through his dark brown hair. Hannah Abott, Nevilles wife, was the landlady at the Leaky Cauldron.

"That sounds perfect, I would love to see Hannah," Hermione answered. She and Hannah had not spent much time together when they were both attending Hogwarts, but it would be nice to have lunch with them both, and to get away from the grounds for an hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hesitate to leave your thoughts!


	5. A teasing game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a lot of smut. You've been warned!

"How are you finding you stay? Nice to be back?" Neville asked, nodding towards Draco. Neville had decided yesterday that he would not let Malfoy stir something up today, not in his classroom. He decided to put on a professional role, and not let thoughts of Malfoy's past behaviour inflict on his teaching abilities. He was glad Hermione was there too, it felt comforting to have someone there who shared the same feelings towards the blonde man. At least, that's what he thought.

"Yeah" Draco answered, shooting Hermione a quick glance. "The activities I've taken part in since my arrival have been very pleasurable," Draco drawled and squeezed Hermione's thigh under the table. She held in a gasp and shot him a glare at the word pleasurable. Not missing his not so subtle hint. At least it wasn't subtle to her, but Neville seemed none the wiser.

"That's really good!" Neville answered as he prepared the desk for his afternoon class.

"Indeed. And how's your new profession treating you?" Draco asked to make small talk; he was pleasantly surprised that Neville didn't appear to hold any grudges. He probably owed him several apologies for his teen behaviour, but he wasn't the apologetic type.

Neville felt rather surprised by Malfoy's civility, but it did nothing to change how he viewed the man.

"It's amazing really. I have plenty of time to research herbology when I'm not teaching, and McGonogall gives me pretty free range in planning for the curriculum for my classes," Neville said as he organised a few parchments on the desk in front of him. Draco wasn't all that excited to guest in this particular class; he never did care for herbology when he was a student here, and unlike at the DADA class he would have no useful insight to share.

"That sounds amazing Neville, I'm looking forward to attend today," Hermione said with glee and Draco pondered why she never sounded that full with glee when she talked to him. He certainly had never been on the recipient end of such a beaming smile. He straightened his back and clasped his hands together in his lap.

"Do you two have any plans for the evening?" Neville asked out of curiosity, he figured it might be boring for them to just walk around Hogsmeade, seeing as they weren't exactly friends. He glanced up, over at them, a little confounded by how close they sat.

"Oi. Certainly, I'm quite excited for dinner. Think I'll find it just as delectable as last night in fact," Draco answered and Hermione had to cover her moan with a cough. Draco punched her gently on her back.

"You okay Granger?" he asked.

"Just fine, just, dry throat," she answered, looking apologetically at Neville. As if he understood what was going on, and she needed to apologise for being flustered.

"You sure it's dry?" Draco asked with a smirk plastered on his face. This was almost as much fun as breakfast, he thought. He felt the need to get back at her a bit, for snogging him senseless and then stepping out on him in the library. Hermione bit her bottom lip and cleared her throat.

Neville reached for an empty glass he kept at his desk, and pointed his wand at it "Aquamente." The glass filled with water. "here Mione," he offered the glass to her.

"Thank you." Hermione sipped on the water, swallowing loudly.

Draco's innuendos had not gone unnoticed with Hermione, it was like this mornings breakfast all over again. And it did things to her, to her body. When he squeezed her thigh she almost jumped out of her seat. When he used the word delectable she knew what he was talking about, and he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Determined to not be the only one feeling hot and bothered, she waited for her moment. When Neville turned his back to rearrange some pots Hermione let one hand slip up Draco's thigh. Sliding it up and down before squeezing at the end of his upper thigh. He showed no emotion on his face, but Hermione saw how his Adam's apple moved beneath the skin of his throat as he stopped a growl from escaping his lips. The corner of his lips twitched.

"Sorry, I'll be right back, just realised I'm short a few spades for the students," Neville excused as he hurried to retrieve some from the supply closet. They both nodded at his words. As he stepped outside, Hermione leaned closer to Draco. He could feel her warm breath on his neck. It made his skin prickle.

"Delectable, was it?" she purred in his ear while gripping his thigh again, grazing the bulge in his trousers with her fingertips. Draco shifted in his seat. Suddenly not enjoying this game as much. Of course she'd find a way to turn it on him.

"Stop it woman or I will-"

"You'll what?" Hermione interrupted, still whispering in his ear, her lips grazing his skin as she did. She could see his chest moving, evidently affected. It made her feel very proud at her accomplishments.

Since they were alone for the moment, Draco saw no harm in doing what he did next.

"I will reach down that skirt of yours and pull your wet knickers to the side and make you cum in this very classroom," Draco's tone was firm, and as the words left his lips he placed his hand around her neck, turning her head so they where face to face, and he could see nothing but lust in the brown eyes looking back at him. He loved the feeling of her delicate neck in his hand, and he knew exactly what it did to her, it was all very apparent in her eyes.

Fuck, how did he do this to her? Make her feel this way? She almost wanted him to touch her, fuck her right now. She felt herself getting wet.

"You wouldn't," was her answer. But she wasn't entirely sure, his eyes looked dangerous.

"Test me." Draco quirked an eyebrow. Challenging her. He obviously wouldn't, not here, but it was oh so fun to tease. "If you're good, and stop with this, thigh gripping, teasing, I'll reward you after," he continued.

She didn't answer, but he could see her squirm in her seat. "Are we clear on that?" he demanded an answer.

"Yes," she breathed, and he let go of her throat just in time for Neville to saunter back into the classroom.

Draco shot her a wink and Hermione felt herself melting. She clasped her hands together and crossed her legs; it only made her cunt throb more so she uncrossed them quickly.

She saw Draco smirking satisfyingly in her periphery.

Hermione did her best to focus on class, not even daring to look at the man on her right. She found Neville to be a really good teacher. He introduced them to the class, it wasn't the same students they had met earlier in the DADA class. Both Hermione and Draco said a few words, and Hermione took the opportunity to let the students know how lucky they were to be learning under Professor Longbottom, earning a shy smile from Neville.

Herbology really wasn't her thing, but she still managed a good grade in it, and she spoke briefly about the devil's snare, the one she had an encounter with during her very first year at Hogwarts, the student's listened intensely except for a few who caused some ruckus. She vaguely remembered her, Harry and Ron mostly using the herbology class to discuss things and make up plans to overcome whatever Harry's misfortune threw them that year.

When class ended and the students begun to leave the classroom, Hermione and Draco stood. Hermione gave Neville a hug and Draco shook his hand.

"Thank you for letting us listen in today, it was really interesting, you're a great teacher you know. I'm going to head back to the Three Broomsticks, I have some work to catch up on," Hermione said. Annoyingly using the same excuse Draco wanted to use.

"Yeah, same for me, have some paperwork to organize, and thank you it's been insightful, and I concur with Hermione's opinion, good teaching," he said as he shook his hand, thinking it didn't hurt to be a bit extra polite.

__

"Strip," Draco commanded as soon as the door closed behind them at the inn.

Hermione felt a little self-conscious, she hadn't undressed under his gaze since three years ago. Sure he'd seen her naked last night, but it had been darker, and it had been more gradually, not this exposed. Still she obeyed and started with unzipping her skirt, letting gravity do the rest as it fell to the floor. Revealing her pink, mesh underwear with embroidery flowers on, along with her black stay ups. She stepped out of it and began unbuttoning the two buttons on the sleeves of her blouse, pulling it over her head to reveal a matching bra. She didn't make eye contact with Draco it felt too unprotected. Instead she noticed how he adjusted his cock inside of his trousers. It encouraged her. She reached to undo her bra, but Draco stepped towards her and gripped her wrist before she could.

"I want to commit this sight to memory first," he explained in a low voice as he took a step back to enjoy the full view, eyeing her up and down two times, his jaw clenched as he hummed in approval. Hermione felt herself growing more and more aroused, soaking her knickers. She blushed, feeling very much like she was on display. Draco caught sight of her pink cheeks, and stepped closer again. She relaxed a little more when his grey eyes stopped their assault. He twirled one of her stray curls with his finger.

"No need to be shy. If only you could feel what you do to me, just standing there. You're beautiful," he whispered, his eyes not leaving hers. Hermione's heart pounded hard in her chest, she didn't reach out to touch him, let him do what he felt like. He'd never called her beautiful before, and it made her heart skip a beat, her eyes widen.

"And this," he said, caressing one of the straps of her bra. "Did you wear this for me today?" he cooed. He was so close, that his breath disturbed the hair around her face as he talked. She had made a very conscious choice in underwear today.

"Yes, for you," she answered, knowing he would like the answer. It was the truth.

"I'm very pleased."

Hermione bit her bottom lip, groaning through closed lips. Drawing his attention to her them. He dragged a finger across the curve of her bottom lip. Placing his thumb between her lips. She sucked on it, making him growl in the back of his throat, the sound sent shivers through her body. Her legs quivered for a moment. She massaged his thumb with her tongue, and he started to move it rhythmically, she couldn't help but moan as he did. He removed it with a pop, and let it slip down the middle of her body, down her stomach, over her thin knickers, and started to rub it in circles over her clit. Hermione closed her eyes, breaking the eye contact and relished in the feeling of his touch right where she wanted it.

Draco caressed her breast with his other hand, focusing on one at a time. He pinched her nipple, her left breast, and then her right. Hardening them.

"Ah yes!" Hermione exclaimed. Draco hummed in appreciation, loving the sight of her erect nipples. He pulled at her bra, removing them from the cups. He began licking and sucking on her breasts, worshipping them, slowly, dividing his time equally between the two.

"Fuck!"

"Yeah, you like this?" Draco asked before biting down on one nipple. The feeling was so intense Hermione almost screamed.

"Oh, yes Draco"" she struggled to answer. Draco chuckled, enjoying all of her reactions. He was already rock hard in his trousers. He moved her knickers to the side and ran his fingers up and down her slit.

"Oh my, you're practically dripping." Hermione blushed. Loving and hating when he was so blunt. He stopped and Hermione whimpered at the sudden loss of touch. He put his fingers to his lips and sucked her juices of them, and clicked his tongue.

"Delicious."

"Remove them," he continued, and pulled at knickers, before releasing them so the elastic band snapped her hip. "I want you naked."

Hermione's legs trembled, and she did as he said, removing the remaining fabric she had on while Draco pulled his jumper over his head, making his hair all tousled, and it made her to touch it, run her hands through it. He looked so sexy, like that. Maybe it was because his hair always looked so pristine at all other times. When Draco had removed all of his clothes Hermione stared in awe. His chest looked hard, sculpted and lean, her gaze dropped lower and stopped for a second at the apparent V-shape, she found it looked so, enticing. He was clean shaved, except for a few golden curls. And he was so hard. She absentmindedly licked her lips as her eyes glued to his cock. She'd felt it many times, tasted it even, but it was a rare thing to simply just look at it, and she could understand now, why he'd describe her as delectable, because his cock, it looked so damn, tasty.

"Enjoying the view?" It snapped her out of her head, she hadn't realised how much she stared and she wondered for how long she had. She tensed a bit, she'd been caught.

"Yes. Don't mind if I do," she answered boldly. She was a Gryffindor after all, and she could see his cock twitch before her eyes.

She stepped closer to him, touching over his chest with her fingertips, tracing his scars, his skin so soft against her traveling fingers. She travelled further down, and was just about to touch his cock when he grabbed her wrist.

"Please?" she said, not above begging. She never was when she was this aroused.

"Since you ask so nicely, and I did promise you a reward didn't I? I think you earned it, you acted like a perfectly good little girl for the rest of the afternoon". Draco pressed gently on her shoulders, and it was all it took, her legs gave out quickly and she dropped to her knees.

She began licking up his length, and purred. Making sounds she didn't even know she had in her. The muscles in his legs tensed and he used his hands to gather her hair out of the way. Letting her explore with her tongue as she wished. He moaned loudly when she took the tip of his cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, taking in more of him. She relished in the sounds he made. Wanting to know when she did it just right.

"Mm that feels so good, show me how much you want it," he commanded and she struggled to fit all of him in her mouth. He pulled hard on her hair and held her head still as he thrust into her mouth, not too hard, but enough to make her feel he was still in control. He was panting now, and pulled out earlier than she wanted.

He pulled her into a standing position, and quickly reached down to touch her core. Feeling how wet she was. "You enjoyed that didn't you?" He quirked an eyebrow. Hermione groaned as he touched her, and held onto him tight when he slid two digits inside of her.

"Yes!" she yelled, not sure if it was an answer to his question or a reaction to the assault on her pussy. Draco grabbed her chin and kissed her hard, passionately, desperately.

"Lean forward on the bed. I can't wait any longer to fuck you," he growled and let go of her chin.

They moved to the bed. Draco thrust into her hard, as deep as he could and Hermione screamed in pleasure. It felt so damn good in this position. He pulled out completely, only to thrust in with the same force again, she felt spots in her vision. She was so close already. She arched her back, allowing him to go deeper.

"Yes, yes, I'm gonna-"

"Your gonna what? Cum? Already?" Those words where not supposed to make her feel like she did, but Merlin it was so fucking hot. He reached under her and played with her clit, and she let go. Her entire body trembled. He stopped the assault on he clit and grabbed her hips so she wouldn't crumble, but he kept thrusting through her orgasm, only slowing down a little.

"Such a good girl," he breathed, and kissed her on her shoulder. His soft words were everything.

He caressed her breast, and rolled her nipple between his fingers, and just like that she could feel her second orgasm forming.

"Please!"

When he spanked her arse, hard, several times, it sent vibrations straight through her.

"That's it, cum for me again," he growled and she came again, more intense than the first time, her walls clamping down on his cock. He slowed his pace, waiting for her orgasm to subside before he pulled out and stroked his cock until he came, with a loud growl, covering her behind in his cum.

Hermione collapsed on the bed, he pulled her fully onto it, and went to grab a damp, warm towel to clean them both up. As they tried to catch their breath, Hermione felt two strong arms pulling her close. She turned so they were face to face and looked at him. He looked so relaxed, his eyes soft, a huge contrast to how they'd looked just moments ago. Draco stroked her cheek with his fingers, kissed the freckles on her nose and then her forehead. She exhaled and tried to savor the moment of closeness, resting one leg between his two, her head on his shoulder. They stayed like that for a long while. Not really sleeping. They snogged for a bit, planting soft kisses on each other. Neither of them wanted to break the silence, the serenity that enveloped them both.

__ 

Hermione was the first to wake. She eyed the clock on the bedside table, it was five p.m, so not too late for dinner. Thankfully she hadn't slept for too long.

She glanced at Draco, his blonde, almost white, hair was tousled, his chest moving up and down, steady. Her mind raced with thoughts about their recent activity, as she did, she couldn't help but wonder why she liked it so much, why she let him control every aspect when they had sex.

Draco pulled her closer to him. Peered at her with one eye. "Stop overthinking things, relax," her murmerd

"How did you know? You're barely even awake?"

"Because I can feel your entire body going rigid," he answered in a husky voice, the kind men had only when they've just woken up. She almost felt privileged to hear it and seeing him like this, so serene, a little messy.

"You're doing that thing again," he blamed.

"What?"

"Staring."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, and also not sorry," she said and laughed. Draco chuckled, making both their body's bounce slightly on the bed, and it wasn't sarcastic or to tease her, it was genuine. She returned to her previous thoughts when he went still again, she wanted to know, to understand, why he made her feel that way, why the way he spoke to her during intercourse didn't make her want to punch him. It should, shouldn't it? Draco slapped her arse. And she again, returned to the present.

"Alright, if you're not going to give that mind of yours a break. At least tell me what's bothering you so much," he demanded, still with closed eyes, it made it easier for her to talk. She decided there wasn't any reason to not share her thoughts, since it regarded their sexual activities. Inexplicably, she trusted him when it came to that subject, she had, ever since they met up for the first time post-war. That was a mystery in itself, she realised.

"Granger?" he moaned. She'd been thinking silently again.

"Yeah. I don't know. Last year when we-" She stopped. Unsure of how to say it.

"Started to fuck," Draco continued her sentence. Impatiently. Forever the crass one of the two.

"Yes. During that time, I realised what I really liked, in the bedroom."

"I remember, it was very enjoyable," he said, eyes still closed but he still managed a satisfied smirk. Hermione was thankful his eyes were still closed. It made her feel like could speak freely without drowning in his eyes and stutter or do something else ridiculous because of his affect on her. She exhaled.

"What I'm still not sure of though, is the _why_ ," she continued. Draco caressed her back, running circles with his finger, silently encouraging her to continue. This time more patient.

"I mean, I should want to slap you, not much unlike third year, for the things you say sometimes, and I have no idea why it only arouses me more when you do. I hate not having control of things, of things being unpredictable. And why _you?_ Don't take it the wrong way, but of all people in this world, I let you do these things to me." She stopped her confession there, not wanting to add on to just how much it bothered her that it was actually _Draco Malfoy_. A part of her thought it might be because she simply didn't reconcile the Draco before her now, with who he had been as a child, a teenager. She had changed a lot after the war, and she knew he had too. Some doubts about his personality and views still lingered though. It was never something they discussed.

Draco opened his eyes. He didn't look annoyed, or amused, he looked sincere, serious, like he was truly contemplating what to answer.

"First of all. To me it's pretty obvious as to why you enjoy it. But it's from my point of view and I could be wrong," he placed his index finger on her lips, he could see she wanted to say something, but he wanted to finish before she did. "Please just hear me out before letting your mind get the best of you," he said. "Like I was saying, from my perspective. You've never come across a word you don't like so it's only natural words would be a strong aspect for you in the bedroom, by that I mean, why you like it to be so verbal." He could see her blush but soldiered on before he lost what he wanted to say.

"I think your so used to telling people what to do, and always thinking, overthinking, that you mind simply can't relax enough for you to enjoy the moment during sex. And that's where I come in. And maybe you should want to slap me, but know that I'm only in control because you let me. It's power play simply put. It has no bearing of who you are outside of the bedroom or our dynamic in it. You're still you." He shrugged his shoulders at the last part.

Hermione listened closely to what he was saying. When he said he could be wrong, she wanted to interject that if he did it would be a first, but she decided to let him say what he wanted, waiting, albeit rather impatiently. As he finished, she pondered what he'd said. It made a lot of sense, yes, she had always thought words to hold the most power, so it maybe wasn't that strange that she reacted a lot to that aspect during intercourse. And she had herself thought a lot about why she liked to not be in control. She said her next thought out loud.

"It makes sense, I think. But I never thought of it like that, that you were only in control because I let you. But then why do you enjoy that? If I'm the one who is actually in control?"

Draco smiled at her, and it made her heart melt.

"Because, there's something very satisfying in you submitting your control to me, wanting to do so."

Hermione hummed in reply, nuzzling her head between his neck and collarbone, before she spoke.

"I just want to clarify, I have come across words I don't like," she complained with all seriousness.

"Is that so?" Draco asked, intrigued.

"Yes, I loathe the words moist, panties, munch and vomit. Last one because it just makes me think of it," she said, making a grimace.

Draco laughed. "That's hilarious, and valuable." Draco looked devious.

"You use that knowledge for good only, thank you very much." She punched him teasingly. They both laughed and Hermione noticed how straight his teeth were, she almost envied them.

Before Draco left for his room to shower, he decided to ask something. He wasn't entirely sure if it was a good idea, but he decided not to think about it too much.

"Do you wanna have dinner tonight? Together?" he asked. It didn't come out the way he hoped but he didn't dwell on it. Hermione looked surprised, she twirled a curl around her finger, blinked, and Draco put his hands into the pockets of his trousers, suddenly aware she might decline.

"Really? Are you asking me on a date?" Draco cringed at the word, date, but it probably was the correct term.

"Well, yeah. Why not?"

Hermione frowned for a bit, not meeting his eyes as she pondered it, maybe it was a very bad idea actually, but she also knew she wanted to go. She didn't want to have dinner alone, and dinner with him actually sounded like it could be fun. They had been talking a lot more, and not just keeping things strictly as physical as they had before, and she liked him, not denying it still felt conflicting and complicated, and she could think of several reasons from their past as to why they shouldn't.

That didn't hinder the fact that she actually wanted to though. She decided to stop overthinking. What could it hurt? It was only one dinner.

"Yes, let's do it. Where do you want to go?" and it sounded more as if she'd just agreed o scheduling a work lunch rather than a date.

"I have something in mind. Be ready at eight, I'll meet you here".

"Isn't that a little late?" she glanced at the clock and realised she wouldn't be ready in time if he had said any time earlier.

"Trust me, it's fine. See you then," he said and hesitated before he kissed her briefly on the lips. It felt very wrong but also like the most natural thing in the world.

As the door closed behind him Hermione felt something in her stomach. A fluttering. Butterflies?

Really? She reprimanded herself.


	6. First date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco get ready for their first date, both wondering if it will be a mistake. How will it go?
> 
> Mostly fluff in this chapter, but some smut as well. Enjoy!

The water streams warmed his skin. Draco took his time, he had always enjoyed taking long showers, there was something soothing about getting clean, warm and listening to nothing but the sound of water, hitting the tiled floor like raindrops. He ran his fingers through his hair, soaking it completely under the water, lathering it thoroughly. He reached for his body wash, the same he’d been using for a few years, he was a person of habit in that sense. 

He wrapped a towel around his waist, and cast a drying spell on his hair. Put some hair potion in his hands and formed it to his will. He was a perfectionist when it came to his appearance, something he had inherited from his mother. 

Appearance in the Malfoy family was imperative, and that entailed everything from manners to clothing and hygiene. 

He hadn’t really brought that many clothes, he decided on his grey suit, with a white crisp shirt. He held two ties in his hand, but folded them back, placed them on top of the bed one grey and one deep blue. Tie or no tie? 

It was a date, but it _wasn’t_ that kind of date. He skipped the tie. 

Asking Granger to dinner had been a heat of the moment kind of thing. A thing he rarely did. He’d made a rule for himself years ago to not make any rash decisions after a good shag, he tended to be to impulsive in those moments. A rule he had broken today. For Hermione Granger of all women.

It had made sense at the time; he hadn’t really considered it a date before she asked if it was. Neither of them had anything to do this evening, none of their usual friends or acquaintances were around, and they clearly enjoyed each other’s company. Although their past was reason enough, for her to say no, for him not to ask. Shagging each other senseless was one thing, dating an entire other one. Even if it was just this one time.

Before she’d fallen asleep, her wrist had been so visible; stark against the white linen sheets, her battle scar. It still looked freshly carved. It made him feel uneasy, almost nauseous. Sure, he had seen it before, but not like that, not when her heart was beating with a steady pulse in her chest, her lips parted as she breathed. She’d looked so _fragile_ , and he could think of nothing but her screams on the floor of his home. He’d pulled her tight to his chest as the images flooded his mind and traced the letters on her skin gently, with his fingertips, careful not to wake her. 

He never spent any time thinking about her at all before the war, but she occupied his nightmares after it. She was the last person he’d thought he would meet, drinking alone at the Leaky Cauldron on a Wednesday night. But there she was, her scar taunting him every time she used her arm to pick up her martini glass. Most of his reasons for what started their physical relationship had been selfish ones, a means to ease his own guilt, and he knew in ways she used him too, just letting him touch her was a slap in the face to her closest circle, and she knew he would be the last person to call her out on her bad habits. It allowed them both to mend their wounds away from the rest of the world. 

Fuck it. 

He grabbed the grey tie and started on a Windsor knot. 

__

Hermione wanted desperately for the butterflies in her stomach to evaporate. Disappear to never come back. But they were there none the less. She picked out a dress for the evening; she figured one could never go wrong with a little black dress. It was one of her favourites, strappy, straight neckline and tight fitted, with a slit that reached the middle of her thigh. The full length of the dress ended just beneath her knees. It was decent and elegant. She had only brought it because she liked it, thinking she probably wouldn’t have an opportunity to wear it. She was glad she had packed it against her better judgment. She picked a deep blue underwear set in satin decorated with white lace, along with a matching garter, thinking the night might end with her dress on the floor. She’d only brought one pair of high heels, they were black, with a red sole, she placed them next to the bed. 

Feeling satisfied with her choices, she figured she had time for a cigarette before showering. 

She took a wool blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, as she stepped outside onto the balcony. A part of her couldn’t help but think of McGonogall’s words, and Draco’s reprimand, maybe she would start smoking less, but she was not about to quit cold turkey. 

Leaning against the balcony rack, puffing on her cigarette, she decided not to overthink this date tonight. She was looking forward to it, but she didn’t like not knowing what to expect. The date had potential to go south if certain subjects were to be brought up. There was also a chance the butterflies in her stomach would multiply, and she felt unsure as of which she preferred. She hadn’t been on a date since she and Ron had started seeing each other again, their first date post-war was almost two years ago now. 

The air felt humid, cold, she wondered if it might start raining. The castle looked stoic in the distance. It felt like it was taunting her. She finished her cigarette and tapped the tip in the ashtray for the glow to die down. Inhaling the cold her, she stood there for a while longer, trying challenge the castle with her gaze, trying to make out the almost unnoticeable protection charms surrounding the grounds, wondering if they’d ever disintegrate again. 

Hermione made quick work of her shower, and spent more time on her makeup than usual. She decided on a pink rose-coloured gloss for her lips, a hint of blush, and mascara. She used a drying spell on her hair, and curled it into big soft waves, the way Ginny had taught her for her Valentine’s date with Ron. She used a vanilla scented body lotion for her skin, let it dry before putting on her underwear along with her stay ups, attaching them to the garter. She stepped into her dress, using her wand to zip it up. 

She looked at the two perfume bottles she had brought with, both by French muggle brands. Choosing the one she only wore on special occasions, scented of amber, vanilla, tonka bean and Spanish labdanum, it was a boozy, warm and elegant scent. She spritzed it on all the crucial spots. Hermione grabbed a small black clutch and used an extension charm so it would hold all her essentials, including her wand. 

Looking at herself in the body length mirror on the closet door, she wondered if she had overdone it. 

Was it too much?

She sighed. Probably.  
__ 

Draco was staring, and Hermione decided she had definitely gone a bit too far with her outfit choice, not that she didn’t feel proud at the look on Draco’s face when she’d opened the door. It was the fact that he wasn’t saying anything that made her uncomfortable.

Instead of them leaving her room like they were supposed to, Draco walked inside, looking tall, immaculate as ever. His hair slicked back neatly, except for his fringe, dangling on one side of his forehead. He’d even put on a tie and smelled of warm spices, like a delicious autumn cocktail. 

“You look gorgeous,” Draco cooed without thinking. Because she really did. The black dress accentuated her curves, and her hair, he had never seen her hair so shiny, surrounding her face with flawless soft waves. And the heels. Draco had never considered himself to have a foot fetish, but he might need to reconsider. He placed one arm around her waist, close to his chest. Leaning in, their lips almost touching, until they did. Her lip-gloss tasted like strawberries, and he was surrounded by the most delicate amber scent he’d ever smelled. 

The kiss was gentle, soft like feathers, no tongues involved. It was the kind of kiss that made his heart flutter, his brain go fuzzy. Tantalizing. Hermione was the first to pull away. But just barely, her lips where not even an inch from his when she spoke. 

“Take it you like my outfit then?” she teased, smiling. Beaming. A smile he’d never seen directed at him before. It made him smile too, he took a step back, still holding her around her waist. 

“Very much so,” he admitted. 

“Thank you,” Hermione answered, as she took in his grey suit, the perfect colour to bring out his eyes. “You look dashing,” she continued as she eyed him up and down shamelessly, and it warmed his heart in ways he didn’t want to recognise. He used a finger to remove some of the lip-gloss that had smeared when they kissed. 

“You ready to go?” Draco asked, loosening his grip around her waist. 

“Let’s go,” she decided, stepping away from him to grab the only coat she had brought with her, a beige wool coat that had a strap to tie around the waist. 

__

Hermione took in her surroundings, they were most likely still in Scotland, Draco had apparated them here as soon as they’d exited the Three Broomsticks. The Scottish highlands stretched around her, and she could se a building up ahead. They were standing secluded, pine trees and green grass around them. 

“Where are we?” she asked curiously.

“Still in Scotland, we’re having dinner at one of my favourite Italian restaurants. It’s a muggle establishment, just so you know. I visited it many times when I was in Scotland working for my father,” he explained as he led them towards the restaurant up a hill. Hermione wondered how many women he had taken on dates there. The thought was upsetting. But she was also relived they were having dinner at a muggle restaurant as oppose to one in the wizarding world. Now the needn’t worry about prying eyes or being photographed. 

The restaurant was dimly lit, cozy, and packed with guests having dinner. Forks and knives making clinking sounds on plates, and subtle music being played from speakers placed around the restaurant. Hermione immediately liked the atmosphere. 

“Mr Malfoy!” A voice greeted as soon as they stepped in. A man with coppery curly hair smiled at them and asked to take their coats. As Hermione removed hers she noticed his gaze on her wrist. 

Shit.

She quickly covered it with her other hand. She hadn’t thought to glamour it. 

The man showed them to a table by the far end, right by a wall of big panoramic windows that allowed for a magical view of the Scottish highlands outside. As she sat down in a brown leather chair, she took in the view. Mesmerized. 

“Would you like to order any drinks before dinner,” the man asked, smiling at them. Draco quirked an eyebrow, as to let her decide. She felt those butterflies in her stomach again, so a drink was a definite yes for her, she nodded. 

“Martini with two olives?” Draco asked. It was the drink she had when they’d met at the Leaky cauldron years ago. She was surprised he remembered. 

“Yes please,” she said to the waiter, who nodded as he took the order. 

“And for you sir?” he asked, shifting his gaze to Draco. 

“A martini for me too, with a twist.” 

“Excellent, I’ll be back to take your order,” the waiter said as he placed two menus in front of them. 

“The view is amazing,” Hermione praised when the waiter left. 

Draco nodded. “The view and the food here is exquisite, it’s why it’s one of my favourites,” he said, perusing his menu. “What do you feel like?” he asked.

“Seeing as you know what’s good here, I’ll let you order,” Hermione cooed, wanted to se what he would chose. Draco looked up from the menu, smirked. 

“Alright then,” he said, closing the menu. 

The waiter came with their respective martinis, Hermione started to sip on it while Draco ordered a cheese plate for appetizers and truffle pasta for main course. She did love anything with truffles, so it suited her fine. 

“And a bottle of 1999 Brunello if you have?”

“Of course sir,” the waiter replied and stepped away with a nod. 

“The 1999 is supposed to be lovely,” Hermione agreed. Draco raised two eyebrows. 

“You know your wine,” he said, evidently surprised. Hermione had attended several wine tastings with Ginny and Parvati. Ginny mostly joined because she liked to drink it, Hermione herself found it quite educating. 

“I do, I’ve gone to a couple of wine tastings now and then,” Hermione explained proudly as she sipped her martini. It calmed her nerves. Sitting across from Draco felt so, intense. It was so apparent it was a date, and she felt she had forgotten how to date. Had she even been on proper dates? Her dates with Ron could hardly count seeing as they’d known each other forever. Her and Draco had only ever known _of_ each other, and having sex was one thing, she wondered if he felt the same. She looked at him as he took a mouthful of his martini into his mouth, he looked calm, collected He’d probably been on plenty a dates. She picked up the toothpick from her glass to taste one of the olives. 

Draco looked at her when she answered him, feeling like he had no idea who this woman was. He never would have guessed Hermione had any knowledge of wine, but then again, was there something this woman was _not_ good at? How was anyone ever supposed to impress her, not that he’d admit he wanted to, but how? He shook the thought as he watched her slowly bite into one of the olives from her martini, sliding it off the toothpick with ease. Yes he stared, and he didn’t even care. He wanted to know what she was wearing underneath that tight dress of hers, was she wearing stay ups today as well? She did look ridiculously good in those. 

He drank some more of his martini. Hermione looked at him now, like she contemplated something. 

“You have a few fans at Hogwarts you know,” she said. Putting her glass on the wooden table. 

“Really?” he asked raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes, apparently several girls form the DADA class would very much like to snog you.”

“They’re children!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were going to say one of the other new teachers, like miss Evans,” he said to tease. Hermione’s eyes narrowed. 

“Oh, you’d like that? Miss Evans and her long legs,” she said, as if long legs were a curse. 

She was rather cute when she was jealous. Draco chuckled. 

“You think she look good too?” 

Hermione clenched her fist on the table. “You’re lucky we are at a muggle establishment or I’d hex that stupid grin off of your face”, she said hastily. “Maybe you should have asked her on a date then,” she continued and removed the second olive off the toothpick angrily. He would never grow tired of teasing her.

“Now, why would I do that when I could ask the brightest witch of our age, with such a delectable-“

“Draco!” she interrupted. Draco grinned mischievously. “I swear to Merlin if you don’t stop using that word, I will hex you and obliviate everyone in here afterwards”, she threatened with wide eyes and a large smile. It took away the entire effect of the threat. 

Hermione didn’t know what to do with herself, whenever he used that damn word her mind instantly led her down the gutter. To thoughts that made her shift uncomfortably in her seat, made her think of all the good things that stupid tongue was capable of. And he knew that, he must by the satisfied grin on his idiotic perfectly sculpted face. 

Their appetizer course arrived and interrupted their bickering, along with the bottle of brunello. 

The wine tasted absolutely divine, Hermione had never had a 1999 bottle before, the cost of it alone …

The wine paired with the pecorino cheese made for the most fantastic tastes as they meshed together in her mouth. 

Draco swirled his wine, starting to get bothered by the sounds she mas making. Was she even aware? 

“This is delicious” she quipped before taking another bite of the pecorino. 

“Would you stop that,” he said, trying not to sound too affected. 

“What?” she asked, evidently unaware what the purring sounds of satisfaction did to his crotch. If she only knew how much she affected him. He was confused by it himself, never had he been on a date and become hard by the mere sounds his date made. It was disturbing how much he just wanted to drag her out of there and make her cum until she begged him to stop. Hermione met his gaze.

“Oh. Is this, is this-“

“Yes.” He interrupted quickly. 

“Well, then you know how I feel all the time when you’re around,” she admitted, the martini and wine lowering her inhibitions. 

“All the time?” he asked curiously. Raising both of his eyebrows. 

“Indeed. Sometimes you do it on purpose I think, but at times, I just find myself staring at you, you have no idea the effect you have on people. I’ve noticed it a lot these days, the female students, the younger ones of the female professors. I mean. You must know you’re handsome.” She finished and sipped her wine, thinking she’d said too much. She could practically see his ego being stroked. 

“Handsome?” he mocked and Hermione wanted to melt through the floor.

“Oh, and I have noticed _your_ stares,” Draco continued. He looked too amused for her liking. 

“You stare too you know.” She blamed, trying to even to score board.

“I do.” He said simply, and she hated when he answered with only two words. 

“Why?” she asked, using only one word for the sake of it. 

“Because, you have these big eyes that hide no emotion at all, which makes you a terrible liar, you have those darn freckles on your nose that I before the war had never even seen, and now they’re begging me to place kisses on them, and don’t even get me started on that brain of yours. I can always see how I affect you, but never what’s running through that mind, I can only assume it’s about a hundred things simultaneously by the puzzled look you get on your face,” Draco blurted, probably having had too much wine without proper food to soak it up. Hermione’s eyes grew even wider at his confession and he wanted to snog her badly. 

“Fuck this. Meet me in the bathroom in five,” he said. His pants were incredibly uncomfortable. It was a command he wasn’t sure she’d take him up one, but by the way her eyes went dark with lust, how she shifted in her seat, he thought it was a safe bet. 

He left abruptly, taking big strides. It was the kind of establishment that had four bathrooms, not stalls, separate proper, clean, bathrooms. It should be fine if they made quick work of it, he thought as he reached the bathroom door. He did a quick muffilato. 

Hermione was stunned. Now? Here? She crossed her legs and decided she very much wanted too. His words alone when he’d described her had her so wet it felt like it would soak through her thin dress. No one had ever complimented her brain in that way before. It was enough to make her want to devour him. 

She waited for a while, told the waiter who passed to announce their food would come out shortly, that they would just step out for a smoke. It was the best thing she could think of on the spot. Luckily the bathrooms were in the direction of the exit, and she hoped to Merlin the waiter didn’t see she never exited. 

As the door closed behind them his lips were on hers in an instant. Kissing her hard, passionately, rushing. She kissed him back, matching his vigour. Tasting the sweet wine on his tongue. It was intoxicating. They made quick work of undressing, only the bare minimum. She unhooked her stay ups from the garter and Draco moaned when he saw what she was wearing under her dress. 

“Fuck you look so good,” he growled as he kissed her down the neck, biting, licking. He pulled down her knickers and she stepped out of them, he placed them in his inner pocket. 

“Please!” she said when he pulled down his pants and underwear at the same time. He was rock hard and she was soaking wet. They needed no foreplay. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He placed her against the wall, it would be straining on his arms but he didn’t care. He entered her quickly, discovering she was already soaking wet for him. 

“Fuck, I love how you’re always soaked for me,” he said, nibbling at her earlobe. 

“Oh yes, faster. It feels so good.” She exclaimed. He moved fast, thrusting hard. Since both of his hands were occupied he knew he needed something else to pull her over the edge. 

“Yeah that’s it, moan loud for all the guests, I’m sure they’d love to her you cum all over my cock.” He bit down, right between the collarbone and her neck and she squealed, as pain became pleasure. “Show them what a slut you are.”

“Draco, I’m gonna, c-cum,” she called out. He growled in her ear as he felt her tight cunt squeezing his cock. Almost there. 

“That’s it, cum for me love,” he said and she did. Her cunt gripping his cock hard, he couldn’t hold it any longer.

He moaned her name as he came inside of her, her orgasm milking him. He kissed her hard before dropping her to the floor, still holding her waist, steadying her. 

They used their wands to scourgify themselves clean. 

“Fuck Draco. We can’t go out there now, these walls are not that thick!” she exclaimed in horror as she held out her hand. Draco contemplated not giving her knickers back, but decided since it was their first date maybe he should play it nicely. He placed them in her palm and grinned at her. 

“Lucky I’m a wizard then,” he said and winked. 

“You used a muffilato?” she asked, surprised. He just smirked and nodded in reply as he placed a kiss on top of her head, before smoothing down his suit and hair. 

“See you at the table,” he said and existed the bathroom with confident strides. 

Hermione pulled her dress down and frowned at the wrinkles that had formed. She used her wand to straighten her it, and did the same with her hair. She waited for a bit before she started for their table. 

After their bathroom encounter all the first date tension was gone, and they talked about mundane things, work and their life in general. Neither of them mentioned the relationships they evidently had between then and now. They kept the conversation light, mostly post-war and none of their history from before it was mentioned. She learned he had a sweet tooth, and missed playing quidditch and he learned she was afraid of heights and didn’t care at all for quidditch. Draco cast a wandless spell to keep people at nearby tables from overhearing, they were muggles after all. 

Draco laughed when she explained she’d read Hogwarts, A history, more than five times, he admitted too having found it so boring he’d ripped pages from it and charmed them into flying paper dragons. Hermione thought that to be an absolute crime, and told him she actually knew how to fold origami, something she had learned from her uncle as a child. 

She also confessed to adding milk before her tea when she made it herself. He asked if she meant when the tea had been brewed separately, she told him no, she puts the milk in, then the water, then the brew. He found it _utterly_ ridiculous and questioned if she was even British at all. 

Hermione was full from the meal, but Draco insisted on desert. They shared it but he ate most of it himself without shame. Hermione found his sweet tooth to be endearing, and the butterflies fluttered with vengeance, she didn’t even try and squash them this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like how the story is progressing. Please feel free to leave any thoughts you have, it means everything to receive your feedback!


	7. Crossing lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco return from their date and lines are about to be crossed. Hermione wonders how to deal with her many butterflies, and Draco plans a surprise for All Hallows eve. 
> 
> A lot of fluff in this chapter.

“I knew I should have brought an umbrella,” Hermione complained with a look of dismay, as they stood ready to exit the restaurant. Hermione wrapped her coat tight around herself as Draco offered her his wool scarf. He draped it round her neck and his lips curved into his usual smirk. 

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Draco said playfully. And they stepped outside. The rain was pouring down, it was like the skies had opened. 

“I swear to Merlin, I hate Britain’s climate,” Hermione yelled as they stepped outside, trying to override the sound of the rain on pavement.

“How can anyone hate rain?” Draco said, way too positive for Hermione’s liking, as her hair became drenched in water and she worried about her mascara running. Draco held out both his arms, looking up at the dark sky. “It’s the most refreshing thing in the world,” he exclaimed smiling wide. 

Hermione tugged at his coat. “Come on you idiot,” she complained and started walking. Draco chuckled and started to walk, reaching out his hand, she took it without hesitation and felt her stomach fluttering again. They looked for a spot to apparate away from the eyes of muggles.  
__

They stumbled into Hermione’s room at the Three broomsticks, both feeling the rush of the wine. 

“This is absolutely ludicrous, I mean look at us,” Hermione said, shaking of cold from the rain, and he did. She looked a mess and he loved it. 

He drew her close to him, planting a wet kiss on her lips starting to untie the belt on her coat. 

They quickly stepped out of their wet clothes and Draco found two white cotton robes in the closet, chucking one to Hermione. She tied it around herself, still freezing. 

“Come here.” He was running his hands up and down hers to warm her up. She wrapped her arms around him, standing as close as she could to steal some of the warmth from his body. Drops of the rain were still dripping from Draco’s hair, and the way he looked made her heart pound. 

Hermione lay down on the bed, wrapping the covers over herself to warm up, Draco grabbed two small bottles of firewhiskey from the mini bar. 

“This will warm us up,” he said and came to join her on the bed. 

“Good idea,” she complimented and took a mouthful of the whiskey, it burned nicely all the way down to her stomach. She hummed and grabbed onto Draco’s robe, wanting him closer. He complied, wrapped his arms around her tightly, feeling content at having her close to his body. Hermione kissed his forehead, his cheek, along his jawline, and he did everything he could to savour it, unknowingly working hard to memorize the feeling of her supple lips on his skin. Usually it was him who did this part, she rarely kissed him like this. It was like all her usual guards were down. 

Draco’s robe wasn’t tied, Hermione traced her fingers across the sectum sempra scars on his chest, on down his stomach. 

“Did it hurt?” she asked, her voice low, like she was afraid to ask. 

“It did, but nothing compared to the cruciatos,” he whispered back, not feeling any need to be dishonest. 

Hermione gasped. “You’ve been tortured? Who? Why?” Draco closed his eyes, it was like his entire body had memorized the pain. 

The answer was an obvious one. “The Dark Lord.” Hermione didn’t like that he still referenced Voldemort as the Dark Lord. “Because I failed, I was supposed to be the one to kill Dumbledore.” She detected a tremble in his voice. She could feel his body tensing and she felt awful for asking, for being the reason his smile faded. 

“That pain, it never really leaves you. It does something to you,” Hermione said knowing how unrelenting the spell was, as she brushed back his fringe with her fingers. Draco let out a strained breath. He was quiet for a while before he spoke.

“I’m sorry for that,” he said and it felt like it was futile, something he should’ve said already that night at the Leaky Cauldron. 

Hermione frowned. Holding her palm against his jaw, running her fingers over his cheek. “What do you mean?” Draco saw the confusion on her face as she looked at him with those big brown eyes. 

“For letting you go through that, I –I. There’s no excuse.” He sighed and it sounded broken. He could see the moment she realised what he was talking about. 

“That wasn’t your fault,” her tone firm. “You didn’t even know me, and Bellatrix, she’d probably just curse you as well.” 

Draco grabbed her wrist, his fingers gentle, careful. He pulled up the sleeve of her robe, revealing her battle scar. He began planting soft kisses, one for each letter, m-u-d-b-l-o-o-d. Hermione gasped, it felt more intense and intimate than anything they had ever done to each other’s bodies before. When he finished she found his lips quickly. There was a cautiousness to it, a moment when neither of their lips were moving.

Draco began kissing her, it was soft, warm and comforting. His hand found her wet hair, stroking it with care. Hermione caressed the smooth skin on his back, running her hand up and down. She moaned against his mouth, parting her lips allowing for his tongue to enter her mouth. Draco tasted the firewhiskey on her, and massaged her tongue with his. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that left you breathless, it was the kind that started tingles in your toes, slowly taking over your entire body until everything felt warm. 

Hermione’s skin prickled when Draco’s hand left her hair slid down her throat his soft fingertips tracing her collarbone, opening her robe, sliding the arms down her shoulders. His hand reached her breast, caressing it softly. Moving his fingers across her already erect nipples. Massaging, making her entire body shiver, she moaned into his mouth and their kiss depend, still soft yet eager. 

She wanted to feel his skin against hers; she pulled at his robe, then at her own loosening the tie around her waist. Placing one leg over his hip, moving against his body, using her hand to pull him closer to her, his chest against hers, his hand moved under her robe, gripping her ass, squeezing it. She could feel his cock growing hard, grinding slowly against it, with her hip in circular motions. Draco groaned and left her lips, kissing her neck; she felt a sting when he kissed on the bite-mark he’d left there earlier at the restaurant. It felt glorious. 

Hermione reached down between their bodies, clasping her hands around his length, stroking it up and down, earning several moans deep fro Draco’s throat. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, referencing to the fact they had already had sex twice that day. She answered him by lining his hard cock to her opening, stroking the head against her clit, up and down. It drove Draco insane. But he waited.

“Please Hermione,” he whispered under his breath when he couldn’t take the agony anymore. He didn’t think he’d ever pleaded in that way before in his life. He was about to go crazy with want when she finally lowered herself onto him. Hermione whimpered, feeling how sore she actually was. But it was a nice kind of pain, fitting to the moment. She moved her hips, riding him. Draco pushed on her shoulder, changing their positions. He was now on top of her, placing his lips on hers, biting on her bottom lip. 

“Oh Draco,” She moaned as he picked up the pace and licked and sucked on her nipples. He took her wrist into his hand, placing them above her head, holding her still as he kissed her again, wanting to taste her tongue. Never feeling close enough. Trying to kiss, to fuck, away their remaining broken parts. 

He kissed her everywhere, her breasts, her neck, her jaw, her nose, her forehead, her lips, nibbling at her earlobe. He released her hands and she tangled them in his hair, massaging his scalp with her fingers, clinging to him. Hermione felt as though he was everywhere, the scent of him, his tracing fingers, his kisses all over her, his cock moving inside of her. She was so close now. He reached down and rubbed circles on her clit. 

“Cum for me love,” he whispered against her neck, as he increased his thrusts. 

“Y-yees”, she whimpered, her entire body shaking in pleasure for several moments, her hands dropped, and she could feel as Draco came, his eyes only closing when the pleasure overpowered him. He kissed her again, moaning into her mouth as the orgasm took him over fully.

His body collapsed on hers, he struggled to keep some weight on his arm, to not squash her. His head rested between her neck and collarbone, catching his breath. They stayed like that for a while, the only sounds were their breathing and the sounds of the rain hitting the windows. He pulled out, and lay beside her, face to face. Hermione nuzzled herself to his chest. Holding him close to her, wrapping one of her legs his hip, returning to their original position, feeling him go soft against her core. 

__ 

This couldn’t work right? He’d said it himself, he never stayed in one place too long and he loved that. She couldn’t ask him to give that up, his entire career depended on him traveling all the time, not to mention the beliefs of his family, or the fact that none of her friends could stand him. That and the million things between them that was unresolved war reason enough to not get he hopes up, to not wish for things that were unattainable. 

She thought about how wonderful it had felt when he’d kissed her scar, and how many times that same word had escaped his lips, been used against her, _and_ _it_ _hurt_. She felt like crying and forced the tears back, drawing on all her remaining strength. 

He would never be with someone like her, no matter how much she thought he’d changed. It could never be more than this, and she thought about Astoria Greengrass. Were they together right now? She felt a fool for not having asked him. 

Oh Merlin, what if he was? She felt like throwing up. 

Draco was deep in sleep, she couldn’t stand staying wrapped in is arms. She stood, searched her suitcase for her pyjamas, pulled it on and stepped onto the balcony, needing a cigarette. 

If it hadn’t been for her speech the next day she might have seriously considered leaving. 

This was not supposed to happen. She was _falling_ for Draco Malfoy. 

__

When Draco woke Hermione wasn’t there. He peeked onto the balcony, but she wasn’t there either. The first few autumn sunrays were streaming through the window and it made it hard for him to fully open his eyes. 

“Hermione?” he called out. Suddenly feeling a lump in his throat. He had thought this might happen. Feared it. He’d crossed the line last night. Again. He kept crossing lines, kept messing things up. Like he always did. 

“Yeah?” a female voice called from the bathroom. Draco exhaled as relief washed over him. He tugged his pants on and stalked to the bathroom, running a hand through is hair in an attempt to look less dishevelled. 

Hermione was standing with damp hair in her violet satin robe, coating her lashes in mascara. He walked in and stood behind her, placing his arms around her hips, feeling way too happy to have found her.

“Good morning,” he whispered into her ear, on purpose not mentioning he thought she might have left. Did this mean she didn’t regret last night? 

“Mornin’ to you too,” she answered, noticing the morning wood pressed up against her back. “You’re insatiable!”

Draco inhaled her scent and kissed her neck. 

“I’m a man who just woke up. Don’t blame me for what I can’t control”, he said in a low voice as he bit down on her earlobe. Hermione chuckled as a shiver travelled from her earlobe straight to her core. She continued her routine by putting on lip balm on her lips, they were dry from all the snogging sessions. 

“I have a surprise for you tonight, after the Hallows eve feast,” Draco said, looking at her face in the mirror in front of them. Hermione hoped it wasn’t something romantic, it would be too much and break her in ways she didn’t want to recognize. She was pretty certain after her contemplations last night that he most likely was unable to feel for her what she had started to feel for him. If he in fact, was still involved with Astoria, or even if he wasn’t, she knew she was not the kind of girl he was looking for. She wasn’t and would never be a pureblood. There had to be a reason he never brought about anything about their future after they both leave here. Tomorrow, they would part ways again, like they had that year after the war, only this time, she wasn’t as fine with it. 

“Oh really? And what might that be?” she asked, not letting her worry shine through. 

“Can’t tell you I’m afraid.”

“Can I at least get a clue?” 

He gave nothing away.

“Please?” she pleaded and tried to look as convincing as possible. 

“It involves us taking back some of our past,” he said cryptically. “And in the most fun way too,” he continued when he saw her brows furrowing. 

Hermione thought hard about his words. By the look of his happy face smirking at her, she figured it had to do with some sort of kink and not romance. She felt her core throb by the mere thought of what he might do to her. Feeling relived too. A part of her had been afraid that last night would change too much, and she never wanted their roles in the bedrooms to be compromised for one night of love making. Even if she was in fact falling in love with him. She grimaced and Draco caught it. She could see the bewilderment in his eyes, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he mumbled something about neglected work before leaving her to it. 

Hermione too had work to do, and she wanted to get it all out of the way before the festivities tonight.  
__

When Hermione opened her door, ready to make her way to Hogwarts for her speech, the door slammed into something on the floor of the hallway. Her eyes landed on a red box, attached with a note. 

She took it inside, placing it on top of the bed, fumbling with her fingers to get the letter opened. It was written in impeccable handwriting on white parchment.

>   
>  _Who would have thought the Gryffindor princess was one to receive detention?_
> 
> _In the box you’ll find an outfit for this evening's event. You are to put it on after the festivities and meet me in the history classroom at 9 p.m._
> 
> _Let’s remake some of our history, shall we?_
> 
> _D.M_  
> 

Detention?

She opened the box, almost ripping it apart in her eager. After the note, she wasn’t surprised to find a skirt, a white shirt, jumper, knee high socks, a tie, black boots, and a robe. All with the Gryffindor crest, except for the boots. She shook her head in disbelief and refolded the clothes with care into her clutch and thanked Merlin for extension charms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you're still finding this story to your liking, don't hesitate to leave a comment with your thoughts, even the smallest encouragement keeps me going!


	8. Ghosts of times passed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco attend the Hallows eve festivites, and Hermione finds herself getting nervous about what ever it might be Draco has planned for the rest of their evening. 
> 
> Will they manage to remake some of their past?
> 
> This chapter contains a lot of smut. Sorry not sorry.

The Great Hall was filled to the brim with students. The Headmistress welcomed everyone to the annual all hallows eve feast, before giving the word to Hermione.

Her speech was well organized, touching on subjects she thought might interest the students the most, and when she was done, she felt content with her efforts and received a round of applause, louder than she’d expected. All she could think about while Draco was giving his speech to inspire the students, was of how well articulated he was, and that he spoke of his work with great passion, using exquisite hand gestures as he did. It only made her butterflies flutter harder. She tried to focus less on those and more about the excitement she felt for what he had in store for her this evening. 

It was hard not to take note of the Slyterhin girls, giggling at their table, clearly affected by Draco’s presence, she felt that on every level and remembered a time when she’d swooned over Gilderoy Lockhart. It made her smile and Neville looked at her from her left side. Hermione quickly gathered herself and straightened her back. She was seated next to Neville on her left, and Professor Babbling to her right. 

When Draco finished his speech and the applause settled, she glanced in his direction. He was seated at the far end of the table, to Hermione’s annoyance next to miss Evans.

Hermione felt her irritation build when miss Evans laughed loudly and touched his arm. The word _mine_ echoed in her mind and she had to remind herself that he was not. It took all the effort she had not to glance in their direction constantly. Just like the last time when they’d been seated at the same table, she never once caught Draco looking at her. 

What if he enjoyed the attention from miss Evans? She had not forgotten his remark about the blonde long legged professor during their date. It had probably been his way of teasing her, but it did nothing to still her irritation. She tried to focus on her champagne and Neville as he commended her on her speech.

The Hallows eve feast seemed to have everyone at Hogwarts in a festive mood, she exchanged pleasantries with Neville and professor Babbling, hardly touching her food, she had an appetite for something else entirely. She had two glasses of champagne then stuck mostly to pumpkin juice. Wanting to keep her head clear, even though she wanted to drink more if only to calm her nerves. She stopped to greet nearly headless Nick on her way to the history classroom, glad that the halls were empty of students, and the only eyes on her were those on the portraits. 

Hermione searched for somewhere to change, and her eyes landed on broom closet. Without a mirror it was hard to know what she looked like when she’d put the school uniform on. One could only assume she looked ridiculous, a grown woman dressed in school robes. She shook her head, was there anything this man couldn’t get her to do? Her heart was beating fast in anticipation, she really didn’t know where this was going to go, or if it even was a good idea. 

As soon as she stepped into their old history classroom, she saw him. He was seated on top of the professor’s desk, biting in on a green apple. He didn’t even look at her as she walked in. 

“Draco?” she said apprehensively, suddenly feeling nervous again.

“That’s Malfoy to you,” he prompted and finally turned his head to look at her. He was dressed in full Slytherin gear, looking very much like the Slytherin prince he’d once been. She swallowed hard. 

“What’s the reason for your detention then? Caught sucking off the Weasel on the grounds after curfew?”

Hermione gasped. Standing still with her lips parted. 

“Or was it Potter?” She didn’t answer, she was stunned. 

He jumped off the table, his shoes making a thumping sound as they landed on the stone floor. If it hadn’t been for the glint of lust in his eyes, she’d thought he was mad at her. He walked smoothly towards her with the most devious grin playing on his lips. 

She took two steps back when he reached her. 

“ _Both?_ ” He continued with his questioning, quirking a dark blonde eyebrow, taking one step closer to her, whispering; “Have you been caught being a bad girl?” Draco was unyielding. Provoking. 

“So what if I have?” she defied. 

“Oh ho ho! Fiesty,” he mocked. 

“Shut it Dr-“ she stopped when she saw his jaw clench. “Malfoy,” she corrected herself. He looked so _angry_. It reminded her of looks she’d received from in the past, and she wanted to slap him, as much she wanted him to fuck her. 

“Nah, you’re too much of a teacher’s pet aren’t you, everyone knows the Gryffindor Princess is nothing if not a _prude_ ,” he kept mocking, pushing her buttons. 

“I am not _a prude_ you stupid git,” she said, realising she’d just walked straight into his trap by the way he laughed in her face. Draco clicked his tongue. 

“Guilty until proven the opposite,” he said calmly. 

“It’s the other way around actually, and it’s not the _opposite_ , it’s innocent,” she blurted, still the know it all it seemed.

“It’s leviOoosa not leviosAaa,” he mocked, remembering how she’d yelled that sentence for the entire classroom to hear in their first year, surprised by his own memory recall. Now Hermione really wanted to punch him. 

“Not my fault you all are just idiots not knowing the simplest of spells,” she countered, pursing her lips into a thin line. 

He grabbed her throat, standing dangerously close now, noses almost touching. “Don’t call me an idiot,” he hissed. She could feel a rush of liquid pooling in her knickers. 

She poised herself, as much as one could with a hand around their throat. “You’re such a dramatic queen,” she said, small drops of spit shooting from her mouth on his face as she spoke, making his face harden and his nostrils flare in rage. He’d always been so dramatic back then, like when he’d been attacked by the Hippogriff in third year and acted like he’d been about to lose an arm. 

“It’s killed me, it’s killed me,” she challenged, referencing to the event. 

His eyes went dark when he caught the reference, and Hermione realised she had a lot of pent up anger, it felt wonderful to let it out, cathartic even. 

“At least I’m not an insufferable know it all,” he retorted venomously, tightening the grip around her throat. Hermione rubbed her thighs together and he noticed immediately, his eyes shifting down her body.

“Does the Gryffindor princess like it rough?” he taunted and cocked his head to the side. She only managed a pathetic whimper in reply. He pushed her body hard against the wall, quickly moving to pin her against it with his body. She gasped when she felt his hard length against her stomach. 

She looked down at the spot where his cock were. “I’m not the one getting _hard_ ,” she ridiculed back. He raised both of his eyebrows, hitting her with the most amused and patronizing look she’d ever seen on him. 

“Oh and you’re telling me if I reached down to touch your cunt right now you wouldn’t be dripping like the slut you are?” He grinned dangerously again, and the growl escaping his lips as she pressed her body closer to his had her doing just that. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” she challenged, desperately hoping he would. And he did. He pulled on her knickers until they broke in his hands, and without any further warning he slid three digits inside of her, pumping with vengeance. She arched her back and felt her knees weaken, he began to rub her clit at the same time, and just before she was about to cum he suddenly pulled out. Her entire body ached by the emptiness and loss of orgasm.

“Mm, very _moist_ ,” and watched her reaction as he used the word he knew she hated. Her lips parted and the fire in her eyes was as bright as he’d ever seen. 

He smacked his lips onto hers, forcing her mouth open with his tongue, denying her the opportunity to scold him for using that word against her. Hermione felt herself melting into the kiss, biting on his bottom lip. 

Her hands reached down to touch his cock, but he smacked them away, pressing harder against her body. “You don’t get to touch me,” he said coldly. He unclipped her robe, tugging it off, and started on the buttons on her shirt, loosening her tie. When her shirt was fully unbuttoned he caressed her breasts, realising them from the fabric of her bra, he sucked, licked and bit on her nipples, driving her insane. 

“Please Malfoy.”

“Is the Gryffindor princess begging to be fucked?” he asked coolly, seemingly unaffected, and she would have fallen for it if it weren’t for his hard cock pressing against her. 

“Yes!” she answered without hesitation, not caring about the clear desperation in her tone. 

He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back and started to leave bite marks all over her neck. “Look at you, so desperate to be fucked, and by a _Slytherin_ none the less.” His voice was hard, domineering. 

“Who would have thought you to be such a whore,” he hummed on her skin and the mortification in his words made her wetness drip down the inside of her thighs. 

Draco contemplated leaving her remaining clothes on, he very much enjoyed her in her school uniform, it also made it very easy for him to get into the character of his old self. 

No. He would remove her clothes, he enjoyed her naked way too much. 

Still gripping her hair, he moved them to the desk he’d been seated on before. The last of her clothing was removed by a flick of his wand. It became very obvious that she was now naked and he was fully dressed. He lifted her onto the desk, and dropped down on his knees, spreading her legs with his hands before he tasted her. She moaned as his tongue slipped inside of her devouring her. When he bit down on her clit and shoved to digits inside of her, she screamed. 

So. _So_ close. 

And he stopped. Again. Knowing how much more intense her orgasm would be when he’d finally let her have it. He used the fingers that had just been inside of her to pinch her nipples, covering them in her own wetness. 

He smiled cunningly down at her, and she thanked Merlin when he pulled his zipper down. When he started to rub the head of his rock hard cock against her core, sliding it between her wet lips, she felt like screaming again, her desire for him overtook every other thought. He entered her agonizingly slow, stretching her, when he was fully seated inside of her, he didn’t move. 

Hermione rocked her hips, her mind only filled with the desire to cum. She looked up at him, his eyes were still dark, but the anger had been completely replaced with lust. He was still in his stupid Slyterin robes though, shirt and tie looking untouched, and Hermione thought he looked incredibly good. Wondering how she could ever not have found him sexy in his robes at school. 

He groaned when he started to move inside of her, his cock slid easily in and out. When he started to bite on her already sore nipples again she felt her orgasm forming. He slapped her breasts, alternating between the too. And she hoped to Merlin he would let her cum this time. 

“Malfoy, Malfoy, please,” she moaned. 

“Please what?” Draco asked, wanting her to actually say it.

“Please let me cum. I _need_ to cum,” she whimpered as she was writhing on the desk.

“Yes, be a good girl and cum for me,” he allowed. 

His lips were on hers as she came, she moaned into his mouth. The orgasm completely overtook her, making her body entire body shake uncontrollably. It was like the ones she had been denied all took her over at the same time; it was so intense she could feel tears streaming down her cheeks. Draco growled against her neck, her cunt gripping his cock so tight and for so long that he saw no reason to hold back; he released his orgasm inside of her, holding onto her tight. 

Hermione felt overwhelmed, and cried because of the intensity, the way he made her feel, and the fact that she already missed him even though he was right in front of her.

He kissed away the tears on her cheeks while whispering; “You’re such a good girl, so perfect. He whispered it over and over again while planting many soft kisses on her face, her lips and her neck. His words grounded her. He led her up from the table and sat down on the floor, gesturing to her to sit down on his lap. He grabbed his Slyterhin robe that lay next to them and covered her with it. Hermione nuzzled close to his chest, and she felt safe when his arms wrapped around her. 

“You okay love?” 

Hermione nodded against his chest. “Yes, I just- it was just _so_ intense, the roleplaying, the orgasm,” she explained and silently whishing for him to stop calling her love, because it appealed to her very soul. 

Her pulse began steadying and her mind felt clearer. She appreciated how relaxed she was, and how amazing it had been to get some of that anger out. She was fumbling with the collar on his shirt. “You know, I think I needed this. I very much enjoyed mocking you back. It felt purifying in a way,” she admitted. 

Draco hummed and stroked her hair. “Yeah, you really got into character there.” 

“Indeed,” she answered and sighed against his chest. Wondering how she was going to return to her empty apartment and sleep alone tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you found their role-play as intriguing as I did while writing it. 
> 
> Feel free to leave any thoughts you have, even the shortest of comment makes my day!


	9. Parting ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione find time to talk about things that have them both feeling out of their comfort zone. Neither of them will leave the weekend in Hogsmeade unaffected. Draco is unmoving in his believes of where Hermione's stance is in regards to their relationship. Hermione too finds herself convinced she knows how Draco must be feeling.

They walked at a slow pace towards the Three broomsticks. Hermione was clinging to his arm in a way she usually didn’t, and Draco tried not to read too much into it, it was probably just because she was still coming down from their recent activities. 

The sun had set and dim streetlights illuminated their path. Hermione admired the trees, she’d always loved autumn the most; something about the leaves changing colour and the comfort of being wrapped in wool scarfs. She had her arm looped around Draco’s. 

“When are you leaving tomorrow?” she asked, looking down at their moving feet, listening to the sounds of their shoes crushing leaves.

“After our morning meeting with McGonogall. I have to be back in Paris by noon we need to finish some paperwork and organize before a meeting with the Ministére des Affaires Magiques on Monday.” Draco explained. “And you?”

“Harry is away on an auror mission, so I’ve promised Ginny a girls night,” she explained. Wondering if she should tell Ginny the truth about what she’d been up to this weekend or not. 

“Ah, girls night. Sounds fun,” he said trying to not sound sarcastic. 

Hermione sighed; she wanted to know when she would see him next. But the words got stuck in her throat and never escaped her lips, she was afraid his answer would be too painful. 

“Yes, it’ll be nice, we’ll probably end up watching Titanic, there’s nothing like Leonardo DiCaprio to get you through a girls night,” she said without thinking.

“Leonardo who?”

“It’s a muggle actor,” she clarified and gestured dismissively with her hand, knowing he’d probably never seen a single muggle film.

“I see,” he answered calmly as he wondered about that Leonardo muggle; already not liking the guy. 

They walked in silence and Draco pondered if he should ask her to come visit him some time, but he figured she’d be busy with passing her new marital reform, she had spoken of the importance of it. He reminded himself he’d already crossed too many lines, the ones she had made up for him clearly in the beginning of their encounters. As far as he knew, she wanted the same rules to apply. He’d done enough of messing up things for her in the past; he wasn’t about to do that again. 

The Three broomsticks were filled with people celebrating All Hallows eve. “Fancy a beer?” Draco asked. Hermione nodded in reply. 

They were lucky to find an unoccupied booth; three very drunk older gentlemen were just leaving as they searched for somewhere to sit.

Hermione took a mouthful of beer and crossed her legs, looking around at the restaurant. There were no familiar faces around, she figured Neville probably flooed home to Hannah after the festivities at Hogwarts. 

“You know, you should hold onto that uniform. It might come in handy another time,” Draco cooed and winked at her as he placed his pint on the table. 

Hermione’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’ll pack it in my suitcase then,” she said, not able to hide her smile. “How long are you staying in Paris?” 

Draco leaned back, gripping his pint again. “Not sure, it depends a lot on the progression, so far the French ministry has been a bit … reluctant to cooperate with Britain, and even less so with a free agency with a former death eater at the helm,” he said, his face hardening at the last part. 

“I see, I hope Monday’s meeting goes well,” she cooed and took another sip of beer, thinking again about how his former Death Eater status worked against him. She admired his determination in not letting it stop him from doing all the good work he did.

“Me too.”

“How did your father take it? You starting D.M Unity?” she asked, not able to hinder her curiosity, they never did discuss family for obvious reasons. 

Draco’s eyes darkened and he tapped his fingers against the glass. “Oh, you can imagine. He didn’t take it well, but I really can’t be bothered. My father’s too stuck in his ways, and I’m rather tired of it,” Draco drawled, being honest. Hermione had a hard time picturing Draco going against his father. She’d always figured he’d do anything to live up to Lucius’ expectations. 

“What is it your parents do again? Teeth is it?” Draco didn’t mean for it to sound condescending. 

“They’re dentist,” she stopped, contemplating telling him or not, but the beer made her less worried about sharing. “I did a memory charm on them before the war, arranged for them to move to Australia. I didn’t find them in time, it’s irreversible at this point,” she said, her eyes fixed on the pint in front of her. The corner of her eye twitched as she struggled back a sob. 

Draco regretted his question when he saw the look on her face. When she explained he acknowledged yet another reason for why the war had changed Hermione, another battle scar, just not as visible as the one on her wrist. 

He remembered how he along with Dolohov and Jugson had been sent to her family home, they hadn’t been able to find anything that linked to Hermione. Her parents were impossible to track. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s any consolation, the idea was for us to track them and use them to lure you and Harry out.” Draco stated, admitting too his own part in it. 

Hermione choked on her beer, and coughed it away. “You mean, if I hadn’t, they-“ she struggled to form a sentence, meeting his grey eyes. 

“They’d be dead,” Draco concluded and didn’t look away from her gaze. “You saved them,” he continued, wanting to make sure she understood the importance of her actions. Her lip quivered and Draco felt uncomfortable with such display of emotions, but it also did something to his body, he wanted desperately to hold her. He walked over to her side of the table and sat down next to her. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders. 

Hermione was surprised at his reaction, and when his arms wrapped around her she realised how nice his shoulders was to lean on. 

Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Thanks.” 

Draco felt he didn’t deserve it.  
__

Draco could tell Hermione was still processing the information, and he hesitated when they reached her door. Had it not been for his side in the war, she would still have her parents, the fact that had him guilt ridden. 

Hermione noticed his apprehension, her hand resting on the doorknob. “I need a cigarette, and I, I’m too tired for any _fun_ , but we could just, sleep?” She was fidgeting nervously at the hem of her coat, expecting him to not want to stay on those terms. 

“Have a cigarette to spare?” 

Hermione’s lips curved into a smile as she pushed the door open.  
__

Draco inhaled the toxic smoke into his lungs, enjoying the rush of nicotine and deciding he needed to up his workout regime after this weekend. 

He watched as Hermione’s curls caught in the light breeze. She was leaning against the railing of the balcony, her head deep in thoughts. 

“Still spending as much time with Potter and Weasel as you did back at Hogwarts?” he asked while looking at the castle and remembering the three of them as inseparable. Only moderately prying for information on her situation with Weasley. He was pretty sure they were not seeing each other still.

Hermione didn’t care to reprimand Draco in the use of his favourite nickname of her former lover.

“No, not as much I suppose, they both have their jobs as aurors, it keeps them pretty busy. And my relationship with Ron is a bit strained, I mean, our breakup was mutual in most ways, and also not. He had a hard time grasping I had changed, and I didn’t like that he couldn’t understand that I had, and … there were things I needed from him that he couldn’t provide,” she said, thinking she needed to stop drinking alcohol around Draco because it made her too talkative. 

“I see.” Draco nodded slightly. “What exactly was he unable to provide?” Draco asked smirking devilishly, certain of what she must be referring to. He couldn’t imagine the Weasel ever satisfying her true needs.

She blushed and he found it endearing. “What I wanted in the bedroom, for one,” she answered truthfully, her eyes glued to the cigarette in her hand. 

“Hmm, interesting.” 

“Oh, really, it’s _interesting_? How so?” 

It was interesting because Draco now knew for sure she was not seeing Weasley anymore, it made him happy in ways he didn’t think was smart to admit aloud. He kept that part to himself.

“Do you find me able to provide what Weasley could not?” he asked and turned so he was leaning with his back to the railing. Draco was curious to know. She was very shy about her wants and needs in the bedroom; she never really told him if he didn’t demand it during. He wished he could use legilimens to find out her darkest desires. He’d be very happy to oblige whatever they were. 

Hermione puffed on her cigarette to stall before answering. “Yes.”

The one worded answer made Draco feel very good about himself, and Hermione could tell by the smug look on his face. “Gloating is not a pretty look on you,” she said trying her best to look serious and punched him lightly in the stomach. Draco found it comical how her ‘punch’ felt more like a pat. 

“I always look pretty,” he said trying to sound as offended as possible.

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “I swear to Merlin,” she mumbled under her breath.  
__

“Ooch,” Draco groaned when he was gutted in the stomach by a knee. It effectively woke him from a very pleasant dream involving whipped cream and Hermione’s naked body. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean too, I just tried to get out of your hold, we have to get ready for our meeting with McGonogall,” she said and Draco thought it was too many words strung together this early in the morning. 

“We can be late,” he murmured against her neck, already placing kisses. He was a man who was never late, but having a naked Hermione in bed apparently changed that. He wanted to savour their last morning together. He pulled her closer, locking one of her legs between his, feeling her naked breasts against his chest. 

“No we can’t. She’s only seeing us this early on a Sunday as a favour to you, so you can get back to Paris in time,” she said feeling like a hypocrite as she rejoiced in the way his arms wrapped around her body, the softness of his skin, the huskiness in his voice. She kissed him on his lips, he responded immediately and she was on her back with him on top in less then two seconds. His fingers tracing down her body, around her breasts. His tongue found hers and, oh god she loved that tongue, her body responded and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her body evidently betraying her mind.

“Draco!” she protested between kisses when he kneaded her breasts, and she released him from her legs. 

He groaned loudly and rolled off her reluctantly, his glorious body on full display on top of the sheets. She sighed, wanting nothing more than for him to ravish her, she almost gave in. 

When they were dressed Hermione suggested they’d walk to Hogwarts, and Draco looked crossed. 

“If we have time to walk, you could _at least_ have let me make you cum once,” he complained as he pulled on his dragon hide gloves. 

“I suppose your right.” She frowned. The look of disappointment in her face so evident that Draco found it comical. He’d expected at least a shove and a glare for being so crass. Maybe he’d been a bad influence on her. He grinned and extended an arm as they left her room.

Their meeting with McGonogall went well, _that is_ when the Headmistress got over her shock at seeing red bite-marks and hickeys all the way down Hermione’s neck as she unwrapped her coat. Draco fought back a chuckle and took a few good seconds to admire his work, earning a stern glare from Hermione. Their role-play from last night had come full circle. Two students shagging and being called out by the professor, Draco found it hilarious, Hermione not so much. 

She gave him a good scolding as they exited McGonogall’s office.

“You should have told me to glamour it before we went,” she blamed. And Draco couldn’t stop laughing, it was the kind of laugh that left your stomach muscles sore. “It is _not_ funny Draco!”

“It kind of is,” he said between laughs before he collected himself. Hermione was smiling and shaking her head at him. She never knew he had such a contagious laugh. 

“I forgot, and I couldn’t see it when we walked here because of your coat,” he defended. Hermione rolled her eyes at his weak excuse. 

He had in fact forgotten to tell her to glamour it, supposedly he enjoyed looking at his love marks too much, and when they left her room it hadn’t occurred to him. Draco really wasn’t sorry about it, a part of him wanted for everyone to know she was his. The only problem was she was not; a fact he ignored to the best of his efforts.

__

Way too soon they were standing with their suitcases outside of the Tree broomsticks. It was a moment Hermione dreaded. Last time they had parted ways it had been easy, light, and it had taken them three years before they met again. In these four days he had managed to make her feel more like herself than she ever had with Ron. 

As much as she needed time to comprehend just what all these butterflies were about, she also wanted for him to be hers, but she believed that to be impossible. It wasn’t like they could just be a couple walking about London hand in hand without causing headlines, not to mention his parent’s views of people like her or her friends views of people like him. The hardest fact to grasp was that he most likely didn’t want it to be more; she had concluded that already when the first signs of her infatuation had reared its ugly head. She still had no idea where he stood with Astoria.

At that moment she hated their past, she hated the prejudices that still roamed in the wizarding society and she hated how cowardly she went about the whole thing.

Draco studied her, deliberating what would be the right thing to say. He could see she was deep in thought, and he was annoyed that her eyes gave nothing away, they usually did. If she wanted them to make plans to meet again, surely she would just say so, right? He convinced himself she would, because when had Hermione Granger not gone after what she wanted in life? The latest one being the Minister post. 

He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. A show of affection he hadn’t planned on. “Good luck with the reform, I’m sure the Minister position will be yours in a heartbeat,” he said, waiting for a sign, any sign from her to make plans and he would take it. 

She didn’t give him any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, huge thanks to everyone who has commented, left kudos or bookmarked, it gives me life!
> 
> I know this chapter isn't going to be the most exciting one, but it's necessary for the storyline. I promise there is more in store for these two if you stick it out till the end. 
> 
> I already have the next chapters mostly finished, so next update shouldn't be that many days away.


	10. The gossip train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five weeks after Hermione and Draco have parted ways Hermione feels the need to either do something or move on with her life. She spends an evening with her friend Ginny and what she sees in the copy of the gossip magazine helps her make a decision.
> 
> Draco is having a particularly bad day when he too receives some gossip that does not go down well with him. He, as well makes a decision, albeit a more rational one.

_Five weeks later_

It had been five weeks since Hermione and Draco had parted ways, and Hermione missed him when she scanned the quidditch section in the Prophet, when she caught sight of her copy of Hogwarts: A history in her bookshelf, and every time when she woke to an empty bed. She’d disciplined herself several times for losing herself in thoughts about his grey eyes and his lean fingers. 

In these five weeks she had learned masturbation was no adequate substitution for the real thing. No matter how many times she imagined his voice, his cock, his hands, it never measured up and no orgasm was even half as intense. It almost made her cranky.

Each time someone mentioned the efforts made by D.M Unity she couldn’t help but sharpen her ears. She’d overheard a few of her colleagues in the Department of Magical International Cooperation discussing his diplomatic work in France, and it sounded like he was really turning heads, making way for the Ministry to expand their cooperation with France. 

Hermione was astonished when a fellow colleague, Theodore Nott, head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, knocked on her office door on a Wednesday afternoon. Hermione was busy with her martial reform, reading up on how the Secrecy Act was invoked in Norway when the brown haired, slender man asked her if she had any plans this weekend. She did, she had plans with Ginny. Theodore persisted and asked about her plans for the weekend after that, and Hermione found it a bit awkward when she told him she would have to let him know.

Her obsession with Draco really wasn’t healthy, and she either needed to do something about it, or move on. Seeing as she had heard nothing from him in five weeks, moving on made sense. Theodore would not be her first choice for that. For obvious reasons, Theodore was a friend of Draco’s, and she couldn’t very well tell Theodore she’d fucked Draco countless of times and therefore a date with him, would be inappropriate. 

No. It wasn’t like she could tell Theodore that. She sighed and warmed her hands on the teacup in front of her. 

An image of Ron seeped into her mind, and she discovered yet another reason for why it would be untimely to start dating now. Especially when she wasn’t that interested in Theodore in that way.  
__

Today was Saturday, and she was seated on a black leather sofa at 12 Grimmauld place, nursing a glass of exquisite red wine. Ginny Weasley, now Potter, was one of Hermione’s closest friends. Ginny, along with everyone else of Hermione’s closest circle had moved on from the war in a much healthier way than she had. Ginny had gotten married to Harry who she now lived with, she’d also begun a successful career as a quidditch player for the holyhead Harpies. Hermione could appreciate the success, but quidditch was no interest they shared. Ginny was a strong-minded woman, not much unlike Hermione. With Ginny she could always count on things to not be sugar-coated. It was a reason for why she loved her so much; it was also the reason she had yet to tell her about that weekend with Draco in Hogsmeade. 

Ginny had her head in the newest edition of Witches weekly, talking excitedly about a quiz. 

“If you had to describe your love interest as a magical creature, what creature would he be,” she read aloud, looking at Hermione for her to answer.

“These quizzes are ridiculous,” she blamed and frowned. Cranky indeed. 

“But if you _had_ too?” Ginny persisted, sipping on her second glass of wine. 

“Dragon,” Hermione said, surprising herself by how quickly the answer came. It was fitting really, seeing as his name alone did mean _dragon_ in Latin. The man radiated confidence and strength, and part of her knew he was possessive of what was his. Even though she, to her disappointment, had never had that directed at her.

Ginny frowned. “You would describe Ron as a dragon? To each their own I guess,” she mumbled confused, leaning back on the plush chair, flipping to another page, abandoning the quiz because of Hermione’s unsatisfying answer. 

Hermione’s cheeks flushed pink. “No, not Ron. You know we’re not a couple anymore,” she confessed, regretting answering at all when Ginny stood from where she was seated to join Hermione on the sofa. Leaning closer, her eyes exuding curiosity.

“You mean to tell me you have a new love interest?” Ginny’s mind was racing with the epiphany. 

Ginny knew her friend had many struggles post war, and one time she had caught strange marks on Hermiones wrist and called her out on it. Hermione had reluctantly let her in on exactly what she’d been doing when she wasn’t studying for her N.E.W.Ts. Apparently she’d spent the day before shagging and being tied up by a blonde wizard.  
Ginny hadn’t been ecstatic about who the culprit was, but she saw the positive effects. Hermione gradually stopped with her muggle drugs, seemed happier, healthier, like she was coming in to her own, not quite like the old Hermione, but a new, stronger version. She accepted it, but she didn’t trust the man.

Ginny’s question was still lingering in the air, but as she looked over at Hermione, her brown eyes gave her away. They always did.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. Hermione could practically see as her red haired friend put two and two together.

“I wouldn’t say _new_ exactly,” Hermione admitted, giving her friend an unmistakable clue.

She waited for the explosion. 

“Malfoy?” Ginny yelled, very sure of her conclusion, almost causing Hermione to spill some of the wine from her glass. Ginny’s eyes widened when she saw the guilt written all over Hermione’s face. “Oh, of course it’s him,” she continued, gesturing with her hand. “I didn’t believe it when mom told me! Were you snogging him in the library at Hogwarts then?” Ginny’s sentences were incoherent and her eyes were glowing; it made Hermione feel uncomfortable and she shifted in her seat, tapping her fingers against the wineglass.

“Yes it’s Draco. And yes, we might have snogged in the library. Question is how do you know that?” She was suddenly anxious, had someone spotted them in the library? She pulled the glass of wine to her lips, swallowing two big gulps to steady the nerves, thinking she was happy snogging was all that happened there.

“A Ravenclaw student, daughter to a friend of mom’s, she’d told her mom that she’d seen you and Draco snogging, apparently it’s the talk at Hogwarts now,” Ginny said, shrugging her shoulders. 

“You knew this and didn’t tell me?” Hermione blamed, feeling a bit betrayed. 

“I didn’t think there was any truth to it. You remember how much students gossip there,” Ginny said, only looking slightly guilty.

Hermione started explaining to the best of her efforts what had happened during her visit to Hogwarts. Telling her about their date, not even leaving out their pre dinner activity in the bathroom. She told her about the butterflies in her stomach and the way he made her weak in the knees. She watched Ginny’s reactions as she continued on, and she saw a few flashes of apprehension.

“You’re telling me you have feelings for _Draco Malfoy?_ ” The way his name rolled across her tongue made him sound like every villain in all films ever made. 

Hermione sighed and gestured with her hands in resignation. “Yes. I suppose I am,” she said and it felt liberating to say it out loud. She barely had time to finish her sentence before Ginny spoke again. 

“And, you shagged Malfoy in a public bathroom?“ Ginny was grinning.  
“Merlin you to seem to have the most exciting sex,” she continued and Hermione detected a slight hint of envy. 

Hermione chuckled in response. 

“What now then? Are you guys still meeting up for secret rendezvous in public places?” Ginny placed her wine glass on the coffee table. 

“No, I haven’t heard a single word from him since,” she confessed, the hurt unmistakable in her voice. 

Ginny sipped her wine again and mumbled something about Draco being an absolute git. She nodded in partial agreement.

“Maybe you should owl him?” She suggested after a moment of silence. The thought had crossed Hermione several times.

“On second thought, perhaps not.” Ginny stared onto a page in the magazine in her lap. She held it out for Hermione to take and looked at her with a level of pity that made Hermione’s heart catch in her throat. 

On page six of the magazine was a picture of Draco, it only showed his back, his arm was placed on the back of a tall, slender, brown haired woman. Hermione immediately recognized her as Astoria Greengrass. The article said nothing in particular, only that Draco and Astoria had been spotted entering a residence building in Paris. 

Hermione felt herself getting nauseous, she didn’t usually buy in to gossip but it made sense to her. She had shared about her and Ron’s breakup, but he had been completely mute on the subject of previous relationships. Astoria’s name hadn’t escaped his lips once.

Did that mean he’d cheated on Astoria? Was Hermione the _other woman_? Why had he asked her on a date if he was involved with Astoria? Her mind was racing and her nausea increased for each staggered breath she managed.

It was on the following Monday Hermione accepted the date with Theodore Nott. Untimely or not, she no longer cared.

__ 

Draco had been drowning in work, his days seemed only filled with meetings and paperwork. 

He was occupied with a summary on a break trough meeting with the Ministry in France on a friday afternoon. He hoped after said meeting he could finally head back to London, and spend his Christmas there instead of in Paris. He’d written a letter that he wanted to send Hermione, the only thing stopping him was his apprehension that maybe she had no interest in seeing him. To say they’d left things unclear would be an understatement. 

To his dismay he had not yet been able to shake that weekend in Hogsmeade, he’d found himself smiling like a fool several times when preparing his tea, thinking about how Hermione poured her milk in before letting the tea brew. It annoyed him to no end.

As he started on the last paragraph of his summary, a bell rang, letting him know that someone was outside his building and wanted entrance. The button that allowed for him to buzz guests in was broken, he truly hated muggle inventions, they were always flawed and easily broken. He descended the stairs down to the buildings entrance. 

As he opened the door, there stood Astoria, dressed in a coat that looked tailored to her frame, her brown hair gathered into a slick ponytail. Behind her he spotted cameras flashing away.

Brilliant. With Astoria came the gossip press it seemed. 

“Astoria,” he acknowledged and put a hand on her back to drag her inside, an attempt to avoid the flashing lights.

__

Draco was seated with his face buried in his hands. He stood, yelled, and sat back down. Unable to decide in what position he wanted to continue this conversation. 

The word _pregnant_ echoed in his head as he silently tried to make out the math. He looked at her flat stomach, only partially visible through her opened coat. Confusion hit him like bricks.

“I didn’t say I was _still_ pregnant did I?” she said when she noticed his stare.

Her answer did nothing to ease his confusion, until the word _abortion_ escaped her pink-coated lips, she was shrugging her shoulders as if she’d just told him the milk in his fridge had gone bad. 

“You’re telling me you were pregnant with my child and you didn’t think to let me know before you made your decision?” Draco was fuming. 

“You and I both know we can’t have a child together,” she stated, resting her weight against the wall.

Draco nodded. “That’s true, considering how _embarrassed_ you were to be seen with me, I can imagine having a child with me would be mortifying to you” he said coldly and the look on her face said more than enough.

It broke him, just a little. 

“That’s not- I mean. Just thought I’d let you know that’s all,” she said, pursing her lips and crossing her arms over her chest. Not denying any of what he just said. 

He took deep breaths. Clenching his fists so hard his nails made deep indents in his palm.

“Get out,” he said firmly, his voice calm, his grey eyes lethal. 

“You don’t have to be so mad about it really. It’s not like you want to have a child with me either,” she countered, batting her lashes and putting her red manicured nails into the pockets of her coat, she hadn’t even found the visit important enough to remove it.

It took all of Draco’s strength not to hex her into oblivion. Instead, he pointed his wand towards the door; it shot open with a non-verbal spell. 

“Out,” he growled, through clenched teeth. His mind clouded with rage.

Astoria shook her head in scepticism, as if his reaction was below her. She gave him one last look and mumbled something about _Malfoy temper_ , whatever the hell that meant, as she walked out. 

He rummaged his cabinets for anything to take his mind off things, when he came across an expensive bottle of fire whiskey Astoria had gifted him, he’d been saving it for a special occasion and decided this was special enough.

The more he drank the more he managed to organise his thoughts. In the end, the decision would have been hers either way. He would never have forced her to have a child if it was not what they both wanted. The conclusion however, did nothing to excuse the fact she hadn’t told him until after the abortion potion had touched her lips. 

There had been a child. 

_His child._

A Malfoy heir. 

In a way he blamed himself. Had the war not changed him so much, had the pureblood’s cause still been his top priority, Astoria wouldn’t have had an abortion. He was sure of it. What they had when they had it had been real, but she was too vain, cared too much of how things looked. And there he had been, working hard to do the right thing, and it ended up costing him his child. The thought alone was enough to send him into a complete frenzy. 

Draco had never been good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he as unprepared.

He broke chairs, tables, cabinets, and drawers until his flat looked as messy as his mind felt. With a flick of his wand he restored everything only to repeat the process three more times until he was out of breath and crying on the sofa with the whiskey bottle held close to his chest. 

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly he was again seated on his sofa, whiskey glass in hand, as he pressed play on his remote. The only reason he had a television in his flat was because he on occasion enjoyed listening to the muggle news in the background while he cooked. 

Draco had gone outside and rented a film at a muggle establishment, exactly how he got there or how he got back he wasn’t sure of. His mind was occupied with thoughts of Hermione, and whether she too, was embarrassed to have anything to do with him. It seemed he couldn’t do anything right when it came to relationships and he blamed his father for that. 

The firewhiskey did nothing to soothe his state of mind, it only seemed to make it worse, but the way it burned down his throat was too comforting for him to stop. 

When the film about two lovers on the sinking Titanic reached it’s end Draco found himself standing and yelling at the screen, gesturing wildly with his hands, whiskey flying all over the floor, drenching his socks. 

“THERE IS PLACE ON THAT RAFT ROSE!”

__

When Draco woke his head was throbbing and his neck was stiff from his unconventional sleeping position on the sofa. His entire body ached as if he’d been part of a pub fight the day before. He searched every inch of his cabinets for a hangover potion, he found none; it was at times like this he really missed the comfort of Malfoy Manor and house elves. 

After several attempts he finally managed a coherent letter to his employees informing he was out sick for the day, that’s when he noticed his owl was nowhere to be found.

Using a simple charm, he made himself some black coffee, and drank enough to clear his mind of the hangover fog, burning his tongue in the process. He took notice of a letter crumbled on the table. Vaguely recalling he’d gotten it last night, from Blaise Zabini. He smoothed the parchment to read it; he had no recollection of the content.

> _D,_
> 
> __
> 
> _Are you coming to London for Christmas? If so a pub-crawl is way overdue. You, me, Theo_.
> 
> __
> 
> _Let me know._
> 
> __
> 
> _Oh, and Theo the git apparently managed a date with Granger. Can you believe?_
> 
> __
> 
> _/B_  
> 

Draco stood abruptly when a certain memory hit him. The words Theo, date and Granger had sent him into madness. He’d been seated in his study, he remembered watching the ink sway underneath his quill as he wrote with vigour after receiving the letter from Blaise.

 _His_ letter had been placed in an enchanted red envelope, and it had been addressed to someone else. 

A howler. 

A _fucking_ howler addressed to Hermione Granger, Ministry of Magic, U.K. So _that’s_ where his owl was. 

Of course he hadn’t even been bothered to look up her own address, he’d sent the damn thing to her place of work. Draco badly wished he had a time turner, but he did not.

He groaned in frustration and eyed his wristwatch. The owl would reach the Ministry the next workday. He had no choice but to get dressed and use the floo-network to his London flat, from there he could apparate to the Ministry early morning on monday and try to intercept the howler in time. He had no idea what nonsense he might have written into that howler. Considering his state of mind last night, he suspected the content of it to be unpleasant. 

He condemned himself many times as he dressed and grabbed a handful of floopowder. 

“Draco Malfoy London flat” he called, and with those words he left Paris behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter with the two apart, hoping you'll still find it to your liking! 
> 
> There's a clear reference in this chapter to the movie Titanic, my hope is you'll catch on to the reference of the famous debate whether or not there was place on that raft. :) 
> 
> Please leave your thoughts, they give me life i swear! 
> 
> Lots of love.


	11. The howler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco returns to London and impatiently awaits an opportunity to stop Hermione from receiving the howler. He tries to remember what he's written and can't imagine it being any less than mortifying. Will he make it in time, and what did he write in that letter?

Draco spent the Sunday pacing around his London flat. He couldn’t do anything to stop the owl from delivering the letter. He cursed himself for not having sent it to Hermione’s home address, at least then he would be able to go over there and convince her not to open it. 

He debated whether he still should. Show up at her doorstep and ask her to not open the howler she was bound to receive the next day. But as the scenario played out in his head, he knew such an excursion would be unsuccessful. Him trying to stop her from opening it beforehand would probably leave her curiosity increasing by the hour until Monday morning. 

While shoving his fork onto a piece of potato, he tried to piece together what he’d written in the howler to no avail. Instead, he finished his dinner, finding it bland and boring, before refocusing on work for a good couple of hours. When thoughts of Astoria’s visit started to overwhelm him again, he decided to go for a run. He kept picturing what their child would’ve look like, if he or she would love flying on toy broomsticks like he had and what features of himself his child might inherit, would the baby have his grey eyes, blonde or brown hair? The ‘what if’s’ seemed endless and it made his heart ache in ways he’d never experienced before. 

When he got out of bed the next morning, with only a half hour worth of sleep, he pulled on a white oxford shirt, spritzed on his favourite perfume, the one he was sure Hermione enjoyed, and tucked his shirt into his dark blue trousers. He reached for his jacket, his wand and apparated with a loud crack. 

__

As soon as he arrived at the Ministry of Magic he knew time was of the essence. He explained to the assistant he had an appointment with Blaise Zabini, and therefore needed entrance to the offices, the part that visitors without business could not enter. 

The assistant, a grey old lady who seemed to take her job with great seriousness, eyed Draco suspiciously. Maybe she saw the distress he was under and thought he was up to something. “What is the visit about?” she croaked, her eyes narrowing to thin slits. 

Draco gained entrance under pretence he was meeting with Blaise Zabini regarding business with D.M Unity. He was in no way sorry for lying. He never was when the lie was necessary. 

With hurried steps he soon found himself in front of a dark wooden door, decorated with a name sign in gold letters. His dark haired friend worked under Theo, in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Without knocking Draco entered the office. The space was impersonal, clean and smelled of parchment, ink and Blaise’s heavy oak moss cologne.

“Draco?” Blaise looked surprised at the sight of his friend. He hadn’t seen him in person for several months. 

“Blaise,” Draco acknowledged, his voice hard. 

“What are you doing here?” The dark haired man was still seated behind his desk with a quill in hand, dressed to perfection as usual; he was even wearing a tie.

“I need to intercept a letter I sent to Hermione Granger, can you point me in the direction of her office?”

Blaise’s eyes narrowed. “Sure, but first you need to tell me what the hell is going on? You can’t just storm into my office and tell me you’re writing letters to Granger.” He eyed him with suspicion. 

“For the love of Salazar, I do not have time for this!” Draco quipped but began to explain with as little detail as possible how he and Granger had been a thing and he may or may not have sent her an inappropriate howler while pissed on firewhiskey. 

Blaise was grinning widely when Draco explained, and at the mentioning of a howler he burst out with laughter so intense it had him hunched over. 

“For Merlin’s sake, pull yourself together.” He punched his fist on the desk, obviously not amused by how funny his friend found his hardship.

“Mate, it’s just, hilarious.” He was still laughing. 

“It really is not,” Draco snapped. Blaise gathered himself reluctantly. 

“You have to understand the information is hard to grasp, I mean Theodore asking Granger out is one thing, he never did believe in those prejudices like his father. You on the other hand” he pointed his finger at Draco as if it was not clear to whom he was referring, shaking his head. “Sorry, just very hard to picture it I suppose.” For each word Blaise said Draco found himself fuming. 

He took another step towards the desk. Towering over his seated friend “I abandoned those prejudices a while ago, something you already know,” Draco said as calmly as he could. 

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Blaise said waving his hand dismissively not wanting it to turn into a discussion. He placed his quill into its stand. “Does this have anything to do with the letter I sent you? I wouldn’t have written it like that had I known Granger was your girl.” To Draco it sounded like mock defence. 

“She’s not technically my _girl_. Get off it man, and point me in the direction of her office.” Draco was no longer asking, he was demanding.

He couldn’t imagine the howler being anything but completely mortifying and Blaise was making things harder than they needed be. 

“Alright, alright.” Blaise stood and sauntered towards the office door. 

Draco quirked an eyebrow. “Oh no you’re staying here,” he said, pushing past Blaise and leaving the office. 

“Uh, no, this is better than any edition of Witches weekly,” Blaise countered matching Draco’s fast steps. 

“For crying out loud Blaise, you need to stop with the gossip shit,” Draco complained. He was almost sure his friend had a subscription to that awful word vomit of a magazine, and it was unsettling.  
__

A loud sigh escaped Hermione as her assistant entered her office on Monday morning with yet another howler. She was sipping her morning tea and the red envelope taunted her where it now laid untouched on her desk. She was tired of the Sacred Twenty Eight sending them, she’d already received a handful, all of which was an attempt to pressure her to stop working on her current reform. She contemplated throwing it away, but decided against it. 

A knock echoed. 

“Come in,” she answered, flicking her wand to unlock her office door as she stood from her desk, reaching for the red envelope. 

Theodore Nott’s head peeked in. “You have a minute?” he asked. He was probably there to plan for their date. She’d accepted early this morning by letter, so she wouldn’t bow out of it later in the day. 

Hermione nodded and gestured for him to enter. “Just brace yourself, I’ve already started to open this howler so I might as well see what it’s about.” She sighed, already tired of this day even though it had barely even begun. 

As she ripped the last part of the seal open, Draco’s tall frame burst into her office, hot on his heal was Blaise Zabini. Draco’s eyes were glued to the red envelope in her hands. Hermione had no time to react to their intrusion. 

“Don’t!” Draco called out in a rush, but it was too late. 

Hermione was floored when she heard who the voice of this particular howler belonged to, she felt herself glued to he floor where she stood, unable to move as Draco’s voice filled her office. Her jaw dropped.

> _“Hermione Granger.  
>  I received some disturbing news this evening!_
> 
> __
> 
> __
> 
> _Theodore Nott, REALLY? You’re going on a date with fucking Theo? I can’t believe you. Did our date mean that little for you to agree to date him? I expected more from you Granger. And, let me tell you something else. That Leo actor guy you talk about. He FUCKING deserved a place on that raft, you hear me? THERE WAS PLACE LEFT ON THAT RAFT FOR JACK. I’d rather be on that raft with you and have it swallowed by the sea than not be on it at all. Why won’t you do that Granger? Why won’t you drown with me? I don’t mind being swallowed by the sea if it’s with you!”_

His words made no sense, at the same time as they did. Her heart was beating fast and she was clinging to the desk behind her like her life depended on it. In front of her were three grown men, all eyes on her as the howler self destroyed. Theodore looked shocked and was running his hand nervously through his hair. Hermione wondered briefly if he’d told Draco about their date before she’d even accepted it. She wouldn’t put it past him; he was a former Slytherin after all. 

Blaise looked amused, because when did he not, he was a judgmental arse most of the time as far as she knew. Her eyes moved to Draco, whose grey eyes gave nothing away. Hermione found it to be immensely frustrating. His arms were crossed over his chest, looking as unapproachable as he had that day in the DADA classroom. 

They all shifted their eyes to the paper shreds dancing in the air, falling to the ground like snowflakes. The silence was deafening. 

Draco said nothing to defend himself, there was no excuse for the words that’d cried from the red envelope, the letter was in exceedingly poor taste, but it could have been worse. Thankfully even in his drunken haste he had the decency to refrain from any rude commentary on their activities. To his chagrin he had managed to ask Granger to drown with him, he recoiled when the words were yelled from the letter. 

All he could do now was wait for the outburst that was bound to come. He crossed his arms in self-defence and mentally fought back the urge to just leave by the mere mortification of the situation. He felt the muscles in his arms tense, wanting to grab onto Blaise and Theo, _especially_ Theo, and drag them out of Hermione’s office. Why the hell was Theo there anyway? He shot him a cold glare.

When the shock subsided, Hermione was the one to break the silence, matching the tone of the letter by yelling directly at Draco.

“A _howler?_ You sent me a HOWLER?” Her eyes wide as they zeroed in on his stormy grey. She noticed Theo flinch at her voice, Blaise grinned and Draco clenched his jaw. 

Blaise excused himself and grabbed Theodore with him, closing the door behind them as they left.

Draco and Hermione held eye contact for several long moments, lava meeting ice. 

“I told you not to open it,” Draco said and placed his hands into the pockets of his trousers in an attempt to look more casual.

Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. Where was the apology?

“You’re mental! Sending me a fucking howler, who the hell do you think you are? “ She didn’t usually curse this much, but the situation demanded it. 

When Draco said nothing she continued her rant, her blood was boiling. “Where do you get off wanting anything from me when you’re involved with someone else?” Hermione was screaming, feeling like she had all the right to do so. There was about a meter between them. His tall frame made her feel small; she gripped her wand in defence.

Draco looked taken aback by her words, frowning as if he wasn’t sure what she meant. “Astoria Greengrass ring a bell?” she enlightened him. 

“I’m not with Astoria? Who told you that?” he scoffed.

“Nobody had to tell me, it’s all over _every_ magazine!” she scolded. Not really sure if that was true or not. She had only seen the one. 

Draco closed his eyes, as if what she said annoyed him greatly. She watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. 

Draco suddenly remembered the camera mob outside of his building that horrid Friday. “Granger,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You know better than to believe in whatever those lowlife journalists write. I’m _not_ with Astoria.”

His grey eyes looked dangerous, and he took two strides towards her. She felt trapped and heavily confused. He was not with Astoria? 

Draco was too close now, she could smell his perfume and it made her mind foggy. She avoided his penetrating gaze, thinking it might help.

“How low you must think of me then. To take me for a _cheater_.” He said with heavy emphasis on the last word, clearly offended. 

Hermione furrowed her brows. “But you never said you weren’t with her, as far as I know her name didn’t even roll off your tongue once” she answered and slightly lowered her wand. Draco quickly took another step towards her, now she really was trapped against the desk. 

“It was heavily implied,” Draco snapped, feeling frustrated at the entirety of the situation. Maybe he hadn’t exactly made it known. Mostly because she hadn’t asked and he saw no reason to open up about his tangled past with Astoria, even less now given the bomb she’d dropped on him just days ago. 

“So, tell me, got any fun plans this weekend with Theo do you?” He cocked his head to the side and the smirk on his lips was pure mockery. 

Of course he’d deflect from himself, Hermione thought. He had no right to be so, _possessive_ , like a jealous boyfriend, and yet the way he looked at her made her think of other times he used to mock her, and how she’d _wanted_ to see his possessive side directed at her. She shook her head, an attempt to also shake the whirlwind of thoughts that began to turn angry fire into burning desire. 

“How do you even know about that? I only accepted this morning.” She said, hating that he was so close, towering over her. She had to look up at him when she spoke and it made her furious again. She wanted to knock that smirk off his face. “What you just decided to come back to London and deliver a fucking howler because you heard I accepted a date?”

Draco saw as Hermione’s eyes went from dark, to darker. If eyes could kill he’d be a corpse on the floor at this point. His eyes darted to her hand gripping her wand so tight her knuckles were turning white. She looked infuriated; her eyes were like burning lava. It didn’t matter if she’d accepted this morning or last weekend. Theo had probably just been overly confident about her answer. 

“I received a letter from Blaise this weekend about it,” Draco drawled and Hermione could smell the spearmint on his breath. “It’s irrelevant _when_ you accepted. It’s the fact that you did,” Draco said and he almost looked hurt.

Hermione felt a need to defend herself. “Yes. But only because I thought you’d lied to me about you and Astoria you stupid-“

Merlin if she mentions that name again he might do something he’d regret. Like kiss her to shut her up. Astoria was the last person he wanted to be thinking about.

Being the former Slytherin he was, he couldn’t let a good argument go to waste. “Technically it wouldn’t have been a _lie_. You said yourself I never mentioned her,” he interrupted and Hermione had half a mind to hex him. She raised her wand slightly but refrained, just barely. 

“Don’t fucking interrupt me,” she said with menace. 

“If you’re speaking nonsense expect me to interrupt.” 

Hermione mumbled a series of profanities, but her wand was now completely lowered. He was too close, if she reached out her hand she’d be able to place it on his chest, run her fingers down the length of his arms. 

She bit her lip and Draco wanted nothing more in that moment than to bite it for her. 

“You mean the kind of nonsense you spit from the damn howler?” she retorted after what felt like ages of just staring at each other. “Fucking talking about drowning and shit,” she mumbled having already memorized what he’d written.

Hermione thought about the words of the howler. It was so dramatic, precisely like his usual behaviour at Hogwarts in a way. The end of it however, Hermione found to be quite poetic, and she pictured Draco watching Titanic, she shook her head at the absurdity. Strangest of all was that the damn thing touched her like a love letter. Especially now that she knew he was not with Astoria.

Draco, a _dragon_ , she had described him correctly in that quiz. 

The tension in the air between them shifted. Draco sighed, feeling like he hadn’t been breathing properly since he stepped into the Ministry. He ran a hand through his hair and Hermione felt a sudden need to touch it.

“Not my finest moment,” Draco admitted and Hermione rolled her eyes. It made him ache for her eyes to roll to the back of her head for entirely different reasons. Hermione noticed his gaze drop to her lips and back to her eyes. Out of nowhere she felt her cunt throbbing. The entire argument had made her body heat up in more ways than one it seemed.

The anger in his eyes seemed to subside, and replaced with curiosity. “Is us arguing turning you on?” he asked, and Hermione hated that her eyes always gave her away. All. The. Damn. Time. 

Without warning Draco pounced on her, placing his hands on her hips, digging his fingers in hard and crashed his lips onto hers. It was a rushed kiss, the kind where teeth smashed into teeth and tongues slammed into tongues without direction. Desire coursed through her body and he never felt close enough. 

She was still angry with him, for all the things left unsaid, for his impulsiveness and recklessness, but still, she needed him, wanted to feel his skin against hers, his lips all over her body. She placed her hands on his sides, under the jacket, feeling the expensive material of his white shirt against her fingers. She pushed herself closer to him, creasing his well-ironed shirt. 

Draco felt her breasts pressing against his stomach, and he let a low groan escape from the back of his throat. His hands tangled in her curls, and her hands caressed the back of his neck. 

They stopped for air, breathing heavily, looking at each other in consensus. Draco started with removing his jacket and unbuttoning his white oxford. Hermione removed her blazer, stepped out of her heels and pulled her blouse over her head. She locked the door using non-verbal magic and checked to see that her permanent muffilato was still intact. 

She straddled him with her legs on the two-seat office sofa. He tasted of spearmint and his tongue massaged hers with vehemence. Her hands were in his hair and his was caressing her arse and pulling up her skirt. She was grinding against him, feeling his cock going hard inside of his blue pants. Draco placed his hand between them, pressing his palm against her core, making her purr into his ear. The sound shot straight to his crotch. 

Hermione fumbled open the button on his pants, pulled down the zipper and released him from the restricting fabric. She aligned him at her entrance while he pulled her knickers to the side. 

“Fuck,” he growled into her ear as his cock pressed inside of her wet heat. She slowly buried him to the hilt inside of her, giving herself time to adjust to his large size. When he was fully inside of her she started to move her hips in circular motions. Draco bit down on the space between her neck and collarbone, marking her to him. His warm breath on her neck sent shivers through her body. 

“Move, “ he instructed and Hermione started to bounce in a steady rhythm, as he guided her with his hands on her hip. Draco bit down on her nipples through the fabric of her bra, making her moan against his throat. She kissed his Adam’s apple and Draco found it arousing. He’d never been kissed there before. 

She was so tight, wet and warm, he struggled to focus as to not reach ecstasy prematurely. In his defence, it had been more than five weeks since the last time he had sex. 

Hermione broke their kiss and purred yes, over and over again as his fingers started to massage her other entrance. Draco pressed his index finger inside of her, filling both of her holes. “Yeah, you like that?” he asked. Instead of replying her lips found his, biting down on his bottom lip before tasting his mouth. 

Draco thought she tasted divine and used his free hand to rub her clit, making her moan into his mouth. He could feel her walls starting to clamp down on his cock. “That’s it love, come on,” he encouraged as she rode them both into ecstasy. She was convulsing around him, milking every last drop from him, calling his name several times over. 

Hermione buried her face between his neck and shoulder when their bodies stilled. “I’d drown with you,” she said without thinking, affected by the afterglow.  
There was no point in denying it anymore. Not after this. His letter had basically blamed her for not telling him she wanted to be with him, and she had been too afraid to admit it, thinking he was the one who didn’t want to be with her. For a bright witch, she wasn’t all that bright when it came to affairs of the heart it seemed. The thought made her feel inadequate and inadequacy simply had no place in her world, so she said it. She admitted it, and hoped she’d interpreted his letter correctly. For a brief moment she thought maybe she hadn’t, because Draco didn’t reply. She could feel his heart beating hard against her chest.

Draco felt all of is pent up aggression evaporate, like boiling water turning to steam. There was a moment of silence, when he just looked at her head resting against him.

“You mean that?” he asked under his breath, pulling her hair so he could look into her eyes, searching for signs of hesitation. 

“I do,” she said and the pureness in her words made him want to fuck her all over again.

“Then we shall let the sea swallow us,” Draco concluded before crushing his lips onto hers, not even caring it was the strangest sentence to ever leave his lips. 

__

“You’re mental you know?” Hermione remarked. 

“I know,” he said, thinking she meant it in two ways. He didn’t look the slightest regretful after having taken her again, this time with her body pressed onto the sofa. 

“I can’t tell you how many times I watched my window to see if you’d owl me. Nothing, and then you send me a howler?” she said, still out of breath from their tiring activities.

“Sorry. But I figured you were busy, you never said to keep in contact.”

“Neither did you!” Hermione blamed, teasingly hitting on his shoulder. “Did you rent the Titanic?” 

“Honestly, I don’t recall how exactly, but I did watch it, yes,” he said, frowning. He did have to find a way to mend those memory gaps. 

__

They made plans to meet up that evening for a late dinner. Hermione felt guilty for spending her office hours letting him do things to her body instead of working. She did her best to focus on work for the rest of the day. 

Theodore found her at lunch to tell her had he known about her and Draco he wouldn’t have asked her out, he referenced to the _guy code_ , and Hermione was relieved she didn’t have to be the one to cancel their plans. The cafeteria was nearly empty; she had opted for a late lunch in order to get some work underway, a backlash for having spent her morning doing more work on Draco’s cock than her reform. 

Seeing as Hermione was the only one in the room he actually sort of knew, Theodore decided to join her for lunch. He unwrapped his tuna sandwich and clearly noted the look of judgment as Hermione glared at it. 

“Don’t mock. Cooking is more of Draco’s thing than it is mine,” he said winking at her. Hermione blushed faintly; hoping Theodore hadn’t noticed how long Draco had stayed in her office that morning. 

“Draco cooks?” she asked, finding it hard to picture Draco doing anything in the kitchen except for getting served. 

Theodore held up a hand as to explain he needed to finish chewing before answering. “I thought you two knew each other now? With the dating and all?” Theo said in bewilderment. 

“I don’t know him like that,” Hermione let slip without thinking. Theodore’s eyes widened. 

“And how do you know him then?” Hermione’s cheeks flushed pink and she gulped down her pumpkin juice to gather herself. 

“Ask your friend.” 

Theodore raised his eyebrows and grinned. If she didn’t know him like _that_ , Theodore saw it as his mission to let her know what she was getting herself into. Only partially wanting to get back at Draco for the angry glares this morning and the way he’d hinted Theo was a lesser man than him in that howler of his.

Hermione found quite herself fond of Theodore’s company; he was surprisingly easy to make small talk with. He resorted to tell some embarrassing stories about Draco, such as how he once skipped class because of a pimple that he was unable to successfully glamour, and how he’d hexed anyone who dared to comment on him being punched in the face by her in third year, the stories had Hermione laughing uncontrollably. 

“He does have a stick up is arse sometimes doesn’t he?” Hermione concluded, still laughing. 

Theodore huffed. “He sure does. It was really quite the challenge to share a room with him and Blaise, the two of them were such judgmental pricks back then. When Draco was in one of his moods, I mean, you had to watch out,” he said in all seriousness, “if you so much as looked at him the wrong way or Merlin forbid borrowed his shampoo without asking he’d go crazy. So be careful about that one,” Theo teasingly warned while grinning largely.

“Thanks for the advice,” she said, smiling genuinely, silently deciding she might need to test the theory. 

“Jokes aside, he’s a great guy when it comes to it,” he said to not make his friend look too bad. He sipped his water and returned to his food. 

Hermione nodded. “I think so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all your encouragement and kind words. I'm so sorry it's taken me so many days to update. I've been absolutely drowning in work this week! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it!. Don't hesitate to leave any thoughts you may have, as I've said before, even the smallest of words means so much to me. I love hearing what you all think!! 
> 
> Lots of love!


	12. Watching You watching Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione meet up in his London flat for a late night dinner. 
> 
> Hermione is finally his, and Draco is determined to make her say it, over and over again ...
> 
> Massive amounts of filth in this chapter, just so you know.

Hermione was seated on the marble kitchen counter, her legs crossed, sipping on the martini Draco had made her. She vividly recalled the last time she’d visited his flat, three years ago, and she thought about how much her feelings had changed since then. How broken she’d been after the war, and how much she’d enjoyed being fucked on every surface of his flat. 

Draco stood with his back towards her on the other side of the kitchen, chopping away, preparing their late night dinner. Hermione had worked until 8 p.m., being the last one to leave the office. She still had to be back at work the next morning, she was in the final stages of her reform, and a date was soon to be set for her to speak of it in front of the the Wizengamot, the main legislative body of the Ministry. If they’d pass her reform it would speak loudly to the wizarding community that the Minsitry was taking a clear stance against old prejudices and out-dated legislation. It would also probably earn her a promotion, as the head of the Department of Law Enforcement. From that position she could see herself becoming the next Minister of Magic within a few years if she kept up her good work. 

She watched as Draco’s shoulders moved as he chopped, and briefly wondered if this thing between them would be a distraction, it had already proven to be so this morning. They still had a lot to discuss, but at least now she knew they both wanted to be more to each other. 

“Does today mean we’re official? In a _relationship_?” Hermione asked, swirling the olives around in the martini glass. 

Draco turned around and her breath caught in her throat. He looked good even when he was dressed in more casual attire, he was still wearing his blue trousers from earlier, but his white oxford and blue jacket had been replaced with a black polo jumper. Hermione hadn’t had time to change her outfit, but she’d abandoned her blazer, and was in her white silk blouse and her grey wool pencil skirt. 

He put his hand on the back of his neck, in a way Hermione had come to recognize he did when he was uncomfortable. 

“I suppose one might say we are,” he said coyly and Hermione detected the smallest tint of pink on his cheeks. She found it adorable. 

She hummed in reply while Draco sauntered over to her. His kitchen was big, modern; it looked like it had been taken from a Danish interior magazine. She wondered how she’d never noticed it all of those times she’d spent time in his flat. A man with such a well-equipped kitchen must love to cook. 

Draco put his hands on her thighs and spread her legs so he could stand between them. Even though she was seated high on the counter top he was still about a head taller than her. 

“Good to have that established,” she answered, not able to hinder her huge smile, “whatever will people think …”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Let them think what they want, I don’t care,” he said confidently and caressed her thighs through the fabric of her skirt. Her body reacted instantly, but she stayed still, and placed her martini glass next to her. 

“But your parents-“ it just sort of slipped out.

“Will just have to live with it,” He tightened the grip on her thighs. She could see a hint of apprehension in his eyes. 

“They will never accept you being with me.”

“I don’t care Hermione,” he said firmly, “I think mother might be okay with it, but both you and I know my father never will.” He exhaled. We are both adults and my parents have no say in whom I chose to spend my time with.”

She listened intently as he spoke and rejoiced in the way he used her first name, recognising she still wasn’t used to him calling her by it, he did it a lot between the sheets, but it was rare outside of the bedroom. 

Would his mother really be okay with it?

“But I’m going to sully your entire family blood line,” she said stubbornly. It was too soon to discuss things like children, but Hermione was a planner, and if she was going to invest her time into a relationship, she needed to know that down the line they saw the same thing. A family. She had none at the moment and she knew she wanted children, someday. 

Draco moved his hands to her waist, pulling her body closer to the edge of the counter. He looked at her, confused. An image of Astoria flashed before his eyes and he interpreted Hermione’s words with caution.

“You’re not preg-“ He was interrupted before he could finish the sentence that had his entire body tense.

“No!” she exclaimed quickly and there was something in his eyes she couldn’t quite make out, she could feel his body going rigid. Would he think it to be awful if she had been?

Draco exhaled. Not sure if he could take another woman telling him such a thing.  
“I’m not sure what you mean, but if we were to have children one day, that would mean the Malfoy bloodline wouldn’t be _pure_ , then so be it,” he said and the compassion in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. 

“It wouldn’t bother you?” she was curious to know, wanting to make absolute sure. Regretting her question when she saw his eyes darken. Evidently offended for reasons Hermione couldn’t fathom. To her the question had to be asked. 

He dropped his hands to his sides and looked at her sternly. 

“How can you even think that?” he scoffed. He felt his pulse increase as anger erupted, first she thought him to be a cheater, and now this. Draco shook is head in disbelief. “Is that how you see me?” He pursed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I- No. You have to understand why I’m pointing out the obvious. Your family has prided themselves on their blood purity for centuries, you’re part of the Sacred Twenty Eight, and-“

“Just stop,” Draco was growing more impatient and offended by the second. He closed his eyes as if he was in pain and Hermione couldn’t resist reaching out her hand and caressing his cheek. 

“These are the conversations we have to have, I need to know you see what I see down the line, or else we’ll just be wasting our time.”

Draco took a step back and Hermione’s hand fell limp onto her lap. He felt too many emotions, her hits just kept on coming.

“ _Wasting our time?_ ” He huffed narrowing his eyes. Hermione retreated at the harsh tone of his voice. She felt a sense of hopelessness; this really wasn’t how she’d expected him to react and she seemed to be unknowingly hitting some sore nerve with any words she used. All she wanted was to make sure how he truly felt about her being a muggle-born, she needed to know if she was to hope for any kind of future with him. 

“You’re making this into an argument. I just- we need to have difficult discussions Draco, we can’t just keep avoiding the elephant in the room if we are going to be serious about each other.” She spoke as calmly as she could, but even she had started to feel anger coursing through her body. He wasn’t being fair. 

“I just don’t take well to you asking questions you already should know the answer to.” His eyes were staring daggers into hers. 

“I want to make sure!” she exclaimed a little too loudly, gesturing with her hands indignantly. “If we’re doing this. I want to be sure we’re _really_ doing this, that you’re in it just the same as me, because if not,” she shook her head, “then I can’t. It would hurt too much,” she said honestly and let her hands fall on her lap in resignation. This was not how she wanted tonight to go. 

“Fuck, Hermione, I have already told you I’m in this, and you told me you were too, remember?”

“No, the damn howler told me, you did not,” she said and realised she sounded like a stubborn child. 

“Since I wrote the damn letter that was placed in that howler, I did tell you,” Draco said, being just as stubborn as she was. 

“This,” she said, pointing at herself than him, “isn’t going to be easy is it?”

Draco exhaled and uncrossed his arms. “I don’t care about your blood status or anyone else’s, if we ever were to have children they’d be nothing but extraordinary wizards or witches. Let’s put this discussion to rest once and for all because I really don’t want to have it again. I like you for you, your blood has nothing to do with it,” he said and he felt her small hand gripping his wrist, trying to pull him closer. He obeyed and closed the gap between them. 

“They’d be extraordinary huh?” she cooed, trying to diffuse the thick fog of tension between them. His lips turned into a faint smile.

“Damn right.” 

She placed a feather light kiss on his lips and put her arms around his waist. Thinking she sure had chosen a dramatic man. 

Draco immediately felt his body relax when Hermione’s supple lips touched his. “Just so I make myself perfectly clear, I consider you mine now Hermione.” The possessiveness in his tone and the kiss that followed had Hermione’s body melting. She wanted very much to be his, come what may with it.  
__

Hermione was more than surprised by the dinner that she’d just consumed; she’d practically been praising his cooking skills from the first bite of the beef bourguignon to the last. Draco looked very pleased with himself. 

“Glad you liked it,” he lolled. He was sure she would, he was very confident in his cooking abilities. He combined both muggle and wizarding techniques, not considering it cheating to use a little magic. 

They retired to his living room after dinner for tea and Draco was looking at her like she was his prey when she accidentally brushed his cock with her arm reaching for her teacup. It made her recall the many times he’d fucked her into the cushions of this very sofa, and the time he’d fucked her against the panoramic windows of this very room, whispering how he wanted everyone to see what a whore she was for him, her cunt clenched by the mere images playing out in her head. 

“What is going on in that mind of yours love?” he asked devilishly when he saw her shift in her seat.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teased doing her best impression of innocence. Draco chuckled and she scooted closer to him, taking his hand into hers, admiring his lean fingers.

“I do.” He leaned back against the sofa placing his foot on the opposite leg, not letting go of her hand. “You know I’m fairly skilled at legilimency.” It sounded like bragging but that wasn’t his intention. 

Hermione nodded and caressed his knuckles. Her touch felt like electricity shooting through him and he wondered if it would always feel like this when she touched him. 

Legilimency, the ability to navigate through the layers of another’s mind, Draco was exceptional at it, along with being a skilled occlumens, the act of closing ones mind against legilimency. A skill he had mastered thoroughly during his sixth year at Hogwarts out of pure necessity. 

“With your permission, I could use legilimency on you, it would allow for you to share all your deepest desires, so I can fulfil them.”

She bit her bottom lip and her eyes glued to their joined hands. Contemplating if it was something she wanted. What if he would be put off by it? What if she scared him off with what she truly desired? With legilimency she wouldn’t have to actually say the words that would have her somewhat mortified, he’d just, see it. _All of it_. Even the desires she may not be aware of herself. 

Draco noticed how the cogs spun behind her eyes. It was a lot to ask of her, and he knew occlumency was not her thing, so she really would have to place her trust entirely on him not to probe around in her mind for anything else. 

“Think about it and get back to me,” he said and stroked her hand with his thumb. “I just want to make sure I’m fulfilling your needs to perfection.” Hermione bite her lip again in the most alluring way. He felt her squeeze his hand and she nodded slightly while blushing. It intrigued him, and made him impatient at the same time. He wanted badly to know what thoughts had her cheeks turn such a delicate shade of pink. 

She finished her tea and leaned on his shoulder. It was strange how natural it felt, like they had been this close for years.

“Are you tired?” 

Reading between the lines, she knew what he really was asking. Her response was a light tug on his earlobe with her teeth and a low purr into his ear. Draco felt his cock twitch; the sound almost had him pin her down on the sofa, forgetting he had more elaborate plans for the night. He’d been thinking about it all day since he’d left her office this morning. She had him feeling like a horny teenage boy instead of the grown man he was. 

He cupped her chin and his eyes penetrated into her very soul. 

“Would you mind getting undressed and wait for me in the bedroom?” he continued and quirked an eyebrow. “I have lost time to make up for.” She was finally his and he was adamant to make her say it over and over again. 

“Can’t say I do,” she replied and leaned forward to bite seductively on his bottom lip. Draco groaned and felt his neither regions springing to life.

He waited for her to get undressed, finishing his tea, before following her into the bedroom.  
__

Draco’s bedroom looked exactly like it had three years ago. The soft green tones covering the walls had a soothing effect on her, like being surrounded by trees in the forest. The colour reminded her of their date in the Scottish highlands and she smiled. Two oak wooden bedside tables with lavender scented candles stood on each side of the king-sized bed. She drew her fingertips over the soft white covers, tracing the hem of the green bedspread flung across the foot of the bed, the colour matching the walls perfectly. The pillows on the bed reminded her of the big ones you’d find in luxury hotels. There wasn’t much furniture except for a plush chair in the corner of the room, and a chest of drawers matching the oak wooden bedside tables with gold handles. The door that led to his walk in closet was closed. She’d never been in there herself.

Hermione undressed quickly, debating if she should take off her underwear or not. She decided she should, he hadn’t specified, but they weren’t a matching set, she hadn’t exactly prepared for Draco to show up at her office when she was dressing this morning. She still had a hard time grasping what had transpired this very morning, and she pondered briefly what had made him send the howler in the first place. She made a mental note to ask later. 

She was stressing about if she should slide herself under the covers, stay on top of the sheets, sit or lie down. She was in the midst of changing her position yet again when Draco walked, with a kind of grace she had come to envy. The look in his eyes was hungry, and she was astonished by how easily he could shift from being the man cooking her dinner, to the man standing before her, looking like he wanted to devour her body.

Draco was very pleased to see that she’d chosen to remove every piece of fabric on her body. To say he had missed assaulting her with his eyes in her naked form would be an understatement. He could see her entire body flushing pink when he eyed her. Finding a great joy in watching her squirm at his mere gaze. He walked closer to her, treading slowly. 

He ran his fingers down her arms, making her skin prickle with his light touch. 

“You look amazing,” he said and he could see from the look in her eyes she loved to hear him admire her. He traced his fingers along her collarbone, her breath hitched. Draco tried hard to memorize her every reaction for future reference. Why? Because this wonderful woman was _his_.

“Now, tell me, to whom does this body belong?” 

Hermione knew what answer he was looking for, and spoke without hesitation. “You.” 

Draco hummed, and ran his fingers underneath her breasts, her nipples hardened to pebbles before he even touched them. 

“And your breasts?” he asked, as he licked her left nipple, then her right. She gasped.

“All yours,” she whispered, waiting patiently for him to continue his tour on her body. But instead of moving further down to where she most ached for his touch, his fingers traced the curve of her lips. She parted them, and he slid his index finger into her mouth. 

“Your mouth?” 

Hermione struggled to answer; it was proven difficult by his finger penetrating her lips.

“What’s that?” he continued and withdrew his finger, now soaked in her saliva. 

“Definitely yours.”

“That’s right,” Draco murmured close to her ear. “Now, place that beautiful body of yours on the bed, I want you on your stomach with your arse in the air, we both now how much I like that view.” Hermione obeyed instantly and Draco grinned satisfyingly. 

“Tell me dear, to whom does this cunt belong?” He ran one finger between her already slick folds, teasing her wet entrance. Draco slid two digits inside of her, arching them to rub on her G-spot. She moaned into the mattress, and moved her hips towards him, wanting more. 

Draco slapped her arse, _hard_ , with the kind of force that was sure to leave a red mark. She gasped at the pain. 

“Patience love,“ The pain rippled through her body. “Answer my question.” 

“It’s all yours Draco,” she said, but it sounded more like a sob. Draco kissed the arse cheek he’d just slapped, before walking over so he could see her face. 

“Look at me,” he said softly and Hermione made an attempt to stand on her knees, he used his hand to push her down again. “I didn’t say to move.” She whimpered and when she met his eyes he saw them filled with lust. Her pupils enlarged. 

He grabbed her hair making it easier on her neck to look up at him from her position. “Do you remember your safe word from before? Do you want a new one?” He watched as her lips parted and her eyes widen in suspense. He knew she would understand what she was in for as soon as he asked her for the safe word. 

Hermione felt herself getting drenched by the way he was controlling her, owning her body. When he asked about her safe word, she knew she was in for a rough night, the kind that left bruises and had her constantly aroused for days to come. She really had missed this. _Needed_ this. The last few times they’d had sex it had been more like love making than the kind that had you unravelled and left an exhausted mess. 

“Yellow,” she said and the way his hand gripped her hair had her cunt throb. 

“Good girl,” Draco praised and softened the grip on her hair. He kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth, before resuming to his previous position. 

“Tell me love, how many times have you had an orgasm without me during these weeks apart?” He really was curious to know, because he had fantasied about her in many compromising positions. He traced his fingers up and down her thighs, knowing it would only make her crave his touch even more. Her clit was swollen and he could see her wetness glistening between her lips. 

Fuck she looked so good spread open like this, all for his viewing pleasure. All _his_. 

The thought almost made him lose control. 

He slapped her arse hard. “I need your answer Hermione.”

“Three,” she lied. Not wanting to convey how often she’d found herself wet while reminiscing about their weekend or their many times fucking before that. The lie earned her another slap on her arse, but he was careful as to not hit the same spot twice. The pain of it sent shockwaves through her body. 

“Fuck!” she exclaimed. 

“I won’t stand for dishonesty,” he said cruelly, the threat in his voice was clear, she was not to disobey. 

“Between one and three times a day,” she corrected, mortified as she buried her face into the mattress, it only made her arse stick up further into the air to Draco’s delight. 

“Really?” He was intrigued. “Show me.” 

Hermione’s cheeks turned crimson, she was happy her hair fawned out around her face, hiding it from his gaze.

“W-what?” she stuttered in disbelief, it sounded pitiful even to her own ears. 

“I need you to show me how you pleasured yourself without me.” 

Fuck. _Fuck_. No. She couldn’t, could she? Her cunt was throbbing to the point of pain and she desperately needed relief. 

She began to move, but stopped. Draco caught on to her troubles. “You can move,” he allowed and placed himself on the plush chair in the corner of the bedroom. Hermione hesitantly moved onto her back, diagonally on the bed, because she knew he would want the most out of what she was about to show him. Draco hummed in approval and smirked slightly. She took her time laying back down, looking at him. The grey in his eyes was barely visible; his dilated pupils made his eyes look dark and dangerous. He sure had made himself comfortable, leaning back against the chair with his fingers clasped and his legs spread. She felt her nerves calm when he gave her an encouraging nod and licked his lips. She lay back on the bed and took two deep breaths. 

Draco could tell she was nervous, definitely out of her comfort zone. If only she knew what it meant for him to see her submit like this, let him play with her as he wished. 

“Did you think of my hands all over your body? Envisioning my hard cock slamming into you all those times you touched yourself?” She whimpered and bucked her hips, desperately wanting to be touched. The way he talked to her made every fibre in her body tingle, desire consuming every other thought in her mind. 

He didn’t want to rush her, he wanted her to be comfortable, in the moment. Her hands started to caress her breasts, sliding her nipples between her thumb and index finger. She fought back a moan.

“You don’t have to be quiet on my account. Does rubbing your nipples make you wet? Does it make your cunt ache for a cock?” 

“Fuck Draco, I- You’re-“ she spoke incoherently. Trying to communicate what his words were doing to her, as if it wasn’t obvious by the way her body squirmed on the bed.

“Love, you look so good to me, when you’re giving yourself to me this way. The way you’re touching yourself makes me feel like bursting inside my pants. I think I might just touch myself while I watch you,” he said, because it really was getting tight inside of his pants, and he thought it might help her relax fully to know she wasn’t alone in her arousal. 

She exhaled and her legs spread wide. A growl escaped him and he could see her body react to the sound. 

When Draco’s soft words reached her ears she felt the last shred of nervousness drifting away. He was insanely good at knowing exactly what she needed to hear. Even though her body responded quickly her mind needed to submit to her body’s reactions as well. It was still embarrassing to lay exposed like this in front of him, touching herself but pleasing him with her obedience surpassed the feelings of mortification. She felt her cunt clench when he growled, and she blushed, because she was sure he could see just how badly he affected her. 

She let her hands trail down her body, over her stomach, she might as well give him a full show of what those five weeks had looked like when she was alone in her bed. A moan passed her lips as she reached her swollen clit, rubbing it lightly at first, keeping the pace steady. Unable to see his expression from her position on the bed, she imagined him watching her, it made a wave of liquid rush to her core. 

“Do you only use your hands or do you use a toy?” he asked, and by the sound of his breathy voice she was sure he was stroking his cock. It made her feel brave, so she admitted something that would normally never be uttered from her lips. 

“On occasion, yes,” she confessed, bucking her hips when she slid a finger inside of her heat, making both of them groan. 

He asked what kind of toy she used, and by the mischievous tone in his voice she feared he might make her use it if he had it. She closed her eyes but kept sliding a finger in and out of herself.

“A butt plug.” She wished she could hide under the covers of his big bed. She saw as he stood, stepping out of his already unbuttoned pants and walking into his closet, he returned with said toy in his hands, with a daring smirk on his lips. He pressed it against her lips and she sucked on it, lubricating it. He released it from her mouth with a pop, and held it out for her to take. 

Placing it on the bed next to her, she positioned herself on all fours, and whimpered when she pressed it into her puckered hole. Usually she used lubricant, but her saliva apparently was lubrication enough. 

Draco was seated in the chair again, completely in awe as he watched her crowd the butt plug into her arse. His cock was rock hard and he had to stop stroking his it or he’d empty himself into his own hands. Fuck, he would never have guessed that to be the toy of choice when she was alone. 

“Do you like having your arse filled when you’re fingering yourself?” he asked, because he knew how it turned her on when she had to admit to her own desires. She stuttered a yes in response.

“Tell me love, what do you think about when you’re alone in your bed, what fantasies run trough your filthy mind?” He could see her legs quiver when she added a third finger, pumping hard into her tight little pussy. He wanted for nothing more than to be buried inside of her again. 

“I think about your thick cock filling me while your fingers thrust in and out of my ass. I think about the number of dirty things you say to make me lose my mind.” 

He growled, feeling absolutely feral by the way she was describing what she wanted. He was stunned when she turned over to lay on her back again, one of her hands reaching up and grabbing her own throat, pressing her fingers into the flesh. At that moment he was completely sure she was perfect. 

_His perfect little whore._

“Are you choking yourself?” he said condescendingly. The way he said it made Hermione’s body shudder, and she realised even though it was her own hands working to pull her off the cliff of ecstasy, it was his voice, his words that seduced her body. He was all she never knew she needed. 

“Mmm”, she whispered under her breath with her eyes closed between moans. Draco looked at her, completely amazed with the sight he had in front of him. Silently considering himself the luckiest man to walk the earth. 

He clicked his tongue. “Such a dirty little whore,” he hummed. A faint smile crept upon her lips. 

“Do you like it when I choke you Hermione?” He knew she did, but he had no idea she liked it so much she did it to herself too. Her cunt was soaked, he didn’t even have to look, the splashing noise of her fingers slamming into her cunt was the only sounds in the room except for her loud increasing moans. 

“Will you come for me like this?” He stood, wanting to see her face when she climaxed. 

Hermione felt her arm getting tired, and her fingers were not enough, they could never satisfy her like Draco could, but he was unrelenting. She tried begging but it didn’t work.

Please she pleaded and he knew she wanted to replace her small fingers with his cock.  
“Not yet love, I need you to be a good little slut for me first, I need you to cum for me just like this, will you do that for me?” 

His words made her thrust harder, through the pain in her wrist. She wanted badly for him to be pleased with her.

“Draco, I- Fuck. It’s so good” she cried out when she pumped hard into herself, bucking her hips so her hand slammed into her sensitive nub with each thrust. “I know love,” he said and kissed her tenderly on her lips, muffling her moans. He was now seated on the bed next to her, and the feeling of his fingers tracing around her breasts had her nerves burning.

She gripped her throat tighter, but it wasn’t as tight as when he did it. She was struggling to keep up the pace as her orgasm was building.

“That’s it, show me how you unravel by the thought of my cock sliding in and out of you while I fill your arse with my fingers.” His voice was a low rumble and he growled into her ear. His fingertips kept tracing the curve of her breast agonizingly gently, never really touching her were she wanted him to. His close proximity made her feel safe enough to reach for her climax under his watchful gaze. 

Hermione’s cries were getting louder. Her body trembled when she reached ecstasy, and he had to restrain himself from stroking his cock and emptying himself on her pretty face as it twisted in pleasure. Instead he placed one of his hands on top of hers, making her squeeze her throat tighter as he whispered dirty things into her ear when she rode the wave of her orgasm. Only easing the grip when her body began to still. 

He placed tender kisses on her forehead, soothing her as she came down from her orgasm. 

Her deep brown eyes met his, and he could see how she was coming to terms with what had just transpired. “It’s okay love, you’ve been such a good little girl for me,” he reassured and stroked her head. She leaned into his touch. “I promise I will do most of the work for the rest of this evening,” he said while smiling wickedly. The things he wanted to do to this woman would have her needing to recover for days. He did have five weeks to make up for after all. 

Draco took the hand she had used to pleasure herself with and licked her fingers clean before gently massaging her wrist. He wondered if she alternated between her two hands or not, certainly that kind of work must be straining on her delicate wrists if she did that three times a day. He chuckled and she looked up at him curiously. 

Hermione enjoyed finally feeling his touch, even if it was on her wrist, the massage was well needed if not necessary for what she’d put it through these last couple of weeks. Draco chuckled and she wondered what for. A smile crept up on her lips, she knew this was just the beginning of what he had in store for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely feedback on the last chapter, it has me smiling for days!!
> 
> Not much plot in this chapter, but much needed alone time for the two lovebirds. Please don't hesitate to leave your thoughts, it makes writing so much more fun and it gives me insane joy! 
> 
> Oh, and I've been wanting to ask, would you be interested in a flashback chapter to their first encounter at the Leaky Cauldron? If so I might write one. Either entwined in this story if it fits in, or posted separately as a one shot. 
> 
> Lots of love.


	13. Sensations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione are enjoying themselves in the bedroom before Draco leaves for New York. Christmas is right around the corner and Hermione is unsure as to how she is going to spend it this year. 
> 
> Massive amounts of filth in this chapter. Sorry not sorry.

The darkness in his eyes was the last thing Hermione saw before everything went pitch black. She tried desperately to make out any shapes through the fabric covering her eyes. 

Nothing. 

A noise. Footsteps and a door opening. Was he going to leave her there? He’d flicked his wand and black silk ropes and slid up from the four corners of the bed. Effectively tying her in the shape of an x across the bed. 

“Close your eyes,” Draco said and she did. He’d proceeded to cover her eyes with what she thought was one of his black silk ties. 

Had he left her alone like this? Her heart was beating fast in her chest in suspense. She tried tugging at the ropes that bound her but they didn’t give in. They were as relentless as he was. She was sure they had been secured with magic, and only magic would untie her. She tried to steady her breathing, calm herself down. 

Trust, she needed to trust him. 

Listening more intently than she thought she ever had before, all she could hear was the sound of her own frantic breathing. And then footsteps again, the faint sound of a door creaking, her face turned to where the sound came from. 

“Draco?” she asked idiotically, because who else would it be. He laughed slightly and oh Merlin it had a wave of liquid shoot to her core. Her body felt unquenchable, greedy for his touch, his mere presence. But he was playing with her in the most delicious way. Like her body was his toy, and her mind his to manipulate. She loved it more than she was comfortable with. 

Her body flinched, causing the ropes to strain her when something touched over her collarbone. A feather?

“How does it feel to be helpless?” he asked and he sounded so, amused. 

“Not good,” she replied but it was a lie, because when the feather traced over her nipples they hardened instantly. 

He shoved two digits inside of her and her hips bucked against them instantly, only for her to feel her ankles restraining her from further movement. Fuck. She was not prepared for him to do that. 

“Then how come you’re so wet?” He was clearly mocking her. He withdrew his lean fingers just as soon as they were covered in her wetness. She felt two wet fingers trace over her lips, as to prove to her he was right, she was drenched. 

The things this man did to her had her speechless, a panting desperate mess. He kissed her, tasting her arousal on her lips, his tongue forcing its way into her all to willing mouth, she moaned into his. She wanted to touch his hair, pull him closer, to feel the weight of his body pressed onto hers. Again she was reminded that wasn’t possible. 

When he stepped away from her she felt anxious. She’d never had every single limb tied up before, it was incredibly frustrating an insanely arousing. 

“Do you not like to be at my complete mercy?” he whispered venomously, his lips softly grazing her ear, making her skin prickle all over. 

What was she even supposed to reply. _Yes I fucking love when you toy with me like you own me, like I’m nothing but a plaything for your amusement._ She swallowed her words not ready to admit it so bluntly. 

“I- Yes, it’s nice.” Suddenly his hand was on her throat, squeezing it in the most amazing way. 

“ _Nice?_ ” His voice contained a very real threat. She could feel his breath on her face as he spoke. How long was his body, his arms? Where the hell was he standing? He wasn’t actually on the bed was he? It was killing her to not be able to see his reactions, to read his expression.

“Fine, I fucking love it,” she admitted and it was awful to know he saw how her cheeks turned a deep red shade. Without being able to see him, she was sure he was grinning satisfyingly.

The thing that felt like a feather continued down her body, of course skipping her aching cunt because when did he not take pleasure in her misery. She could feel her chest heaving as it traced its way up her thighs, until it swiftly crossed over her mound, her slick folds. It was the lightest touch but it affected her immensely, slowly driving her insane, making her lose control of her body’s reactions, her legs and arms were trying to break free, trying to feel _more_. 

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, wanting to scream in frustration, and Draco chuckled, he fucking chuckled the bastard. 

Her head turned in another direction, when she heard a buzzing sound. A vibrator? Had he had it in his hands this entire time? How long had it even been since she’d been tied up? Ten minutes? Twenty? All she knew was that every fibre in her body was on fire. She quivered when the vibrator pressed against her swollen clit. 

She mumbled something unintelligible, maybe a thank you? She wasn’t sure, all her focus was on the sensations shooting through her body. 

“Look at you squirming.” She clung to the sound of his voice like it was her life raft. “Do you want me to make you cum Hermione?”

“Yes, please Draco,” she moaned. And the damn vibrator was shut off. She bit lip to stop the scream of frustration. 

“Oh but you’ve told me repeatedly tonight that this body,” he traced his hands over her thighs. Had he always sounded so incredibly seductive? “Is all mine.” She had told him just that hadn’t she? 

“Therefore, _I_ get to decide when _you_ get to cum,” he said devilishly and she imagined a condescending smirk playing on his lips. She whimpered when he turned the vibrator on again and Draco could tell she wasn’t going to last long, and he wondered if it was only with him, or if she always came this fast. 

“You need my permission to cum, but only the first time, then you are free to cum as much as you want.” His tongue traced over her pulse point. The mattress moved and she was sure he was now beside her on the bed. “If you cum before I allow it, there will be consequences.” She almost wanted to ask what those consequences might be, admitting only to herself that it enthralled her. “Do you understand Hermione?" 

She nodded without hesitation. He mumbled something about her being a good girl and it made her heart warm. 

The feeling of the vibrator on her clit was agonising when all she could do was fight back the orgasm that was forming. 

“You’re making a mess out of me,” she sobbed, and flinched when his teeth bit down on her nipple so hard it sent shockwaves of pain through her body, effectively stopping her from being consumed by pleasure. She realised how much one relies on sight, everything he did caught her by surprise. It kept her body tense and her mind constantly on edge of what he would do next. 

“But whores are to be made a mess of,” he hummed after licking and sucking on the nipple he had just assaulted. The words he called her was almost too much, it made her want to pounce on him, make him fuck her into the mattress, choking her until she was a seconds from passing out. But he never really squeezed her throat that hard, because he didn’t know how much she craved it. 

As the shock of pain subsided, she was right there. _Again_. About to unravel. Wanting to give in to her orgasm.

“Please Draco,” she begged.

“My whore is so greedy.” The possessiveness in his tone made her body shiver. 

“Only for you,” she cooed. He groaned and she knew it had been the right thing to say.

Draco turned the vibrator up another level, causing her legs to shake, constantly pulling on the restraints. Not being able to move combined with not being allowed to cum was excruciating. 

Her breath caught in her throat when he moved his body on top of hers. Her nostrils immediately filled with his familiar scent and it was inebriating. She couldn’t have stopped the pathetic begging even if she’d wanted to. His length was pressing against the lower part of her stomach, and his warm breath was tickling her neck, her cunt throbbed with emptiness. She didn’t think she had ever craved for him to fill her this much ever before. The butt-plug was still inserted within her, and every time she moved her hips it made her cunt throb, wanting to be filled just the same. It was _fucking agony_. 

Even if she could move, she probably wouldn’t if he’d told her not to. All she wanted in that moment was for him to be satisfied with her, reward her good behaviour by making her cum. She was struck by the thought that this provocative, beautiful, sex crazed wizard of a man, was hers. The thought alone made her nerve ends tingle in excitement. 

Please, _please_ , she kept pleading and Draco found it mesmerizing. He loved it when she was lost to her sensations, hearing her beg for him was something he could listen to forever. He got onto his knees between her legs, careful as to not ease the pressure of the vibrator against her clit. He slid three digits inside of her, thrusting as deep as he could, before withdrawing completely and repeating the process. He could feel her cunt squeezing his fingers and he knew she was not going to be able to hold it any longer.

“Come for me, come all over my fingers,” he said and she did. She moaned his name several times, and her cunt was gripping his fingers so hard it was difficult for him to keep thrusting into her. 

The orgasm sent waves of pleasure trough her body, but as it started to subside, Draco didn’t stop. The pleasure just kept on hitting her to the point were her legs where shaking uncontrollably. It was too much, he left no breathing room between her orgasms and she was too sensitive. She lost count of how many times she came. She felt her cheeks and his silk tie getting wet from her tears.

“I can’t take it,” she cried out as the strength of the ecstasy proved too great. It was so intense, at first she didn’t even react or take notice when the blindfold was removed. 

“Are you begging me to stop?” he asked as tears kept falling from her eyes. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “You now what to say if you really want me to stop, but I don’t think you do.” 

She opened her eyes only to find a pair of grey ones staring into hers. The room swam back into her vision and she noticed the room was fully lit, not dimmed like before. Fortunately she was too lost to her sensations to care.

“I- fuck- I can’t. Oh- Draco,” she sobbed as the assault of her body forced her to let go again. His fingers were rubbing her G-spot just the right way, making cum shoot out of her on to his fingers and arm, all over the sheets.

“Look at you, making a complete mess on my bed,” he said mockingly as his grey eyes pierced into her soul. 

All control of her body was lost, and when he was sure she would pass out from being overwhelmed he slowed down and turned the vibrator off. 

Hermione thanked him incoherently between moans. He untied her ankles and moved on top of her again, kissing away the tears on her cheeks. His lips reached hers and he started to massage her tongue with his, she tasted just as divine as always. He teased her entrance with the head of his cock, and she threw her head back. 

“I’m going to fuck you know love, and I want you to cum one more time, this time with me, _all over my cock_. Can you do that?” 

She told him she wasn’t sure she could but, Draco was sure he was going to prove her wrong. “I’m sure you can love, and when you do, I’ll make you my little cumslut when I release myself inside of you.” Her eyes shot open and now, they were begging him to fuck her. 

She gasped when he pressed his cock into her with one swift motion; burying himself deep and so fast it took her breath away. Stretching her open. He groaned and whispered to her how tight she was, how the butt plug in her arse made her even tighter. Telling her how her cunt was still spasming, from all of her orgasms, gripping his cock in the most delicious way. He lifted her legs to rest on his shoulders as he thrust into her mercilessly. 

“Fuck Draco I’m going to cum again,” she cried out and she could hear him laugh at her. 

“Already?” he mocked. “Such a little slut aren’t you?” Her eyes caught his and he detected both shame and pleasure, it made his cock throb even more. Increasing his speed, thrusting harder inside of her, working towards his own relief so he could get there with her. The way her cunt clamped down on his cock over and over again made it feel like he was going to break her in half. He used one arm and wrapped it around her legs, lifting up the lower part of her body to extract the toy from her arse, he had to, it was too difficult to move inside of her when her muscles never stopped squeezing so hard. 

Every single fibre of her body was burning, and she was covered in a veil of sweat. She met his eyes when he spoke filthy things to her making her feel mortified and insanely wet at the same time. She wanted desperately to come with him, like he’d told her to. He whispered for her to hold it, and she tried her best. His hands were gripping her thighs and hips so hard it was bound to leave bruises. When he roughly pulled out the butt plug she bit her own lip so hard it started to bleed, she almost lost her focus and if not for the pain on her lower lip as she bit into it she would’ve let the pleasure overtake her. 

He bit down on her pulse point and she squealed. She could barely feel her arms anymore, all she could do was take it, take what he was giving her, relish in the sounds he made as he enjoyed her body.

He let out a growl that sounded nothing but primal. “You’re so good, come with me love.” The way he looked when he let go was hypnotizing; she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He let go of her thighs and she wrapped her legs around his hips, meeting him with each thrust and she let go too. Too exhausted to scream again she could only manage a broken moan. 

They stayed like that for a while, their body’s entwined, both struggling to catch their breaths. “You’re such a good girl, so beautiful,” he murmured when his breathing started to return to normal. She hung on every word he said and groaned when he retracted from her body. He untied her arms gently and she nuzzled in to the space between his neck and shoulder. 

He told her he would be right back, and she thought she was going to die without the warmth of his body close to her. When he came back he cleaned her gently with a warm cloth and handed her a glass of lemon water. She emptied the glass in no time and he smiled at her so genuinely it had her heart skip a beat. 

“Are you okay?” he asked softy while pulling her close to his chest again. She nodded slightly too tired to form sentences. “You did amazing love, I’m so proud of you.” He placed several kisses on her face, and drew soothing circles on her back. Telling her to breath in and out with him, slowly. It calmed her racing heart down, and she found herself drifting to sleep too soon. “It’s okay love, I’ll still be here when you wake up,” he said lowly, as if he could read her mind. She stopped fighting it then, and fell asleep faster and more content than she ever had after the war.

Draco looked at her as her breathing steadied and her eyes closed, he pulled the covers over them. Silently wishing they could stay like this forever, away from the world, just the two of them in the bliss of afterglow.  
__

When he after two hours still hadn’t managed to fall asleep, he left the bed and started a warm shower, hoping it would help him clear his mind of the whole Astoria business that always surfaced when he was trying to relax. Hermione’s words about his family from earlier still remained in his head as well, and the combination made it hard for him to let the water soothe his mind in the way he longed for. 

As the water washed away Hermione from his body he contemplated if he should tell her about what had caused him to send the howler in the first place. She hadn’t asked but he felt he owed her some sort of explanation for his erratic behavior. He didn't consider it to be a lie not to tell her, but there was something about when you were in a relationship that changed the lines between something being a lie and something that was expected to be shared in order to be truthful. 

He still felt gutted whenever that Friday’s events crossed his mind, and it seemed to happen more often then not. He usually didn’t dwell too much on things; instead he would push anything that was unpleasant away. Being skilled with occlumency allowed him to shove thoughts and memories into the deepest crannies of his mind, hiding it even from himself. For whatever reason he hadn’t done so this time, almost as to not allow himself to forget how much it had affected him. It wasn’t so much about Astoria and the abortion, it was the fact his own actions and choices after the war that had caused the outcome. 

He lathered up his body with his favourite scented soap and massaged his scalp with shampoo while his mind kept racing. 

He’d made a mess of Hermione tonight, but it was nothing in comparison to how she constantly made a mess out of his mind. Like the way he couldn’t refrain from smiling like a stupid git in her presence. The way her mind worked intrigued him in ways that far transcended the bedroom walls. She was always well articulate even though her mind always seemed scattered with a thousand thoughts. The fact that she now was his was almost too much to comprehend.

Was he in love? 

Had ever really been in love before?

They way he felt for Hermione was unlike anything he’d felt with either Pansy Parkinson or Astoria Greengrass. His mind was consumed with her.

When she’d asked if they were in a relationship, it had made him feel uncomfortable, not because he didn’t want to be. It was just that relationships usually caused him to feel trapped. Like the way he considered his mother to be in marriage to his father. 

As the water rinsed the soap from his body he realised he actually didn’t feel trapped at all. He sighed and leaned against the black tiles in his shower. He was probably very much in love, and it was as terrifying as it was mind-altering.  
__

“Why do you smell so clean?” she complained and sniffed Draco again. She furrowed her brows. “It’s not fair, I’m gross from last night, and you’re here smelling like apple pie.”

Draco chuckled and Hermione felt betrayed. It wasn’t fair, she felt like she smelled like old sweat and she was sure her hair looked like a bird’s nest. She scrunched her nose and looked at his neat blonde mane accusingly. “Did you sneak a shower?”

“Yes I did love.” He kissed the freckles on her nose. “And you’re not in any way gross. You’re perfect.” He pecked her on the lips. Hermione pursed her lips together, unconvinced and still frowning. 

“I was hoping you’d join me for a shower,” she complained. Draco smirked and sat up.

“That’s an offer I can’t refuse.” Hermione watched as he stood from the bed, and she wondered if he always slept in the nude. She stood from the bed too, and whimpered when she noticed the soreness of her body, she glanced down and noticed a few fresh bruises, she shook her head and smiled. 

“This time I won’t forget to glamour the ones that are visible.” Draco sauntered over to her and placed his hands on her waist. 

“Are you feeling okay? Are you sore?” he asked and the compassion in his voice made her body melt under his touch. 

“Just enough to have a good reminder throughout the day,” she said playfully and ran her fingertips from his chest down his stomach, making him clench his jaw. 

“How long until you have to be at work?” 

“I can’t be late, but I have about two hours,” she said as she pressed her body against his. 

“Lets get you in the shower then shall we?” He cupped her chin and kissed her hungrily.  
__

The week passed in a happy bliss and Hermione started to stir in her bed on Monday night. She and Draco had spent every night together since they’d decided to be in a relationship. She missed him too much for it to be healthy. When he this morning kissed her goodbye and left for meetings with MACUSA in New York she felt strange the entire rest of the day. He had assured her he would be back in time for the Holidays, but that didn’t ease her mind. She wasn’t looking forward to Christmas this year at all, she had no family members to spend it with. The last couple of years she’d celebrated it with the Weasley’s and Harry. Molly Weasley, Ron’s mother had made it clear she was welcomed this year as well, but it didn’t feel right. Now that she and Ron were no longer together it would be too weird. They hadn’t spoken since their breakup. 

During their quick breakfast this morning Draco had told in passing that he was spending Christmas at Malfoy manor. He hadn’t asked her about her plans specifically, possibly because she’d done a good job at dodging the subject all together. 

She grimaced at the thought of spending Christmas at the Manor, not that he had asked her to. His family home held memories she wasn’t sure she would survive facing, the image of his drawing room floor was etched in her brain and the thought of ever being back there had a panic attack rising. Not to mention Christmas with the Malfoy’s made her feel unsettled in more ways than one, their known prejudices of people like her being one of them. His family felt like a dreadful reminder of years past, and as far as she knew his parents were still oblivious to their only son and heir’s involvement with a muggle-born. 

Christmas was two and a half weeks away and Draco would hopefully be back in about a week. She had begun contemplating escaping the country for Christmas, apparate to a secluded cabin somewhere and hide out until new years. That way she could work undisturbed on the final touches of her reform. A date had been set in January for her to speak in front of the Wizengamot and she could make good use of some alone time.

She fluffed her pillow for the umpteenth time and missed the softness of the ones in Draco’s bed. Even though she’d cast a warming spell on her body, her bed still felt cold and she knew it had little to do with the actual temperature in her flat and more to do with the fact she had quickly gotten used to sharing a bed with Draco. The man was like a living radiator after sex. She scolded herself for acting like a lovesick teenager, but even she had to admit that she’d never felt this way when Ron had left their bed for being away on auror missions. 

__

On Thursday she met up with Ginny at a muggle restaurant during her lunch break. She filled Ginny in with what had happened in the past week, for the first time declaring to someone she was in a committed relationship with Draco. It caused Ginny to spit out her water on the table and the people at nearby tables to glance at her like she was ruining their lunch tranquillity. 

“Wait, wait!” She held up her hands. “He sent you a howler? And then you just, decided to be serious with each other?” she quipped as she looked at Hermione with wide eyes. “And you’ve been practically living with him in his flat since? Where was my letter? How did I not know this sooner?” She was on a rant now and Hermione leaned back in her chair, chewing on a piece of her Shepard’s pie. Waiting for her red-haired friend to finish. After swallowing loudly she continued explaining to the best of her efforts what had occurred since they last spoke. She chose her words with caution and skipped the intimate details this time, trying to avoid further outbursts from the woman sitting across from her.

Ginny listened intently and took another mouthful of her pea soup. She was happy that her friend had found someone, even if it was Malfoy. A part of her knew Hermione and her brother Ron weren’t a good match anymore, not since after the war, but she had held some hope of them eventually ending up together, so they would be family one day. It was a selfish wish in a way. It was evident her friend was smitten with the blonde wizard by the way she kept smiling whenever she said his name. She couldn’t help but make a face when Hermione mentioned she thought of Draco as a compassionate and caring man. Ginny silently wondered in what way, because the marks she’d seen on her wrist that time had her thinking otherwise. She decided then and there to grill Hermione on the subject at a later time. It wasn’t appropriate lunch talk and she couldn’t whip out her wand to do a silencing charm in the middle of a muggle establishment. 

“We’re playing against the The Wimbourne Wasps next Friday.” With ‘we’ she meant her quidditch team the Holyhead Harpies. “You and Draco should come, Harry will be there too. After the game, the four of us could get dinner,” she said and she wasn’t really asking as much as she was deciding on it. Determined she needed a closer inspection of the two of them together. 

Hermione looked at her pensively while sipping on her cucumber water. Ginny did her best look of innocence, like she wasn’t at all planning on giving Malfoy a hard time when she met him. For good reasons of course, she needed to make sure he was treating her friend right. She saw it as part of her friendly duty. 

Hermione twirled a stray curl with her finger. By the way Ginny looked at her with big eyes, she pondered if her friend was up to something. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I haven’t even spoken to Harry about any of this, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to have dinner with Draco and me.” Hermione had a difficult time picturing the four of them having dinner without it turning into arguments between the two men. 

Ginny bit her lip and looked extraordinarily guilty when Harry was mentioned. She began telling Hermione that Harry actually wasn’t unknowing about her and Draco. Apparently Ginny had let it slip about their weekend in Hogsmeade, one night over dinner with her husband. Hermione glared at her friend, not too happy with her revelation, but she wasn’t exactly surprised. There was something about marriage that blurred the lines of friendship confidentiality, especially when the friend in question was mutual. 

Hermione sighed in resignation. Ginny was not going to let this go; she was more stubborn than Hermione most of the time. She thought it had something to do with her being the youngest of the Weasley siblings and the only girl. 

When Hermione didn’t say anything Ginny continued. “I told Harry that Malfoy has changed and he doesn’t hold grudges against him like Ron does. Besides, If he is in your life he’s in ours too, therefor it’s only right we get to know him,” she said like it was obvious. “But please refrain from your normal pre dinner activities while we are there.” She winked and the tension between them was gone. 

Hermione laughed and shook her head as she contemplated a dinner together.

Harry had testified to Draco’s behalf during the trials after the war, willingly. Maybe it would be fine, they were all older and the war had affected everyone in different ways. She sighed and bit into another piece of the pie. It could be nice to do something in public, even if it was to watch quidditch. They really had been comfortably sheltered up in his flat, in a way hiding from the world just the same as they had during that year after the war. Even though her and Draco were official, no one really knew about their relationship except for Ginny and she assumed Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini too. Maybe it would do them good to make a public appearance of sorts. 

“Alright. I’ll ask him,” she decided and wondered if Draco would be as resistant to the idea as she feared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is nearing its end. I'm planning on around three more chapters at least and one epilogue.
> 
> Huge thanks to everyone who has left comments and who are enjoying this story, it makes my heart smile. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave any thoughts you may have after this chapter, I live for them!
> 
> Lots of love.


	14. Waves in the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is back from New York, and Hermione asks if he'd be interested in watching a game of quidditch and having dinner with the Potter's. His response surprises her.
> 
> Hermione let's Draco in on her plans for Christmas and Draco suggests something that makes Hermione uncomfortable.

Why was he so calm? It was unnerving. Hermione had just asked Draco if he’d be interested in watching the Holyhead Harpies play against The Wimbourne Wasps, and to have dinner with Harry and Ginny. He didn’t look up from the Daily Prophet, the newspaper he was reading. He continued to sip his coffee, nodding.

“Sure, when?”

Hermione bit her lip. “This Friday, so tomorrow.” 

Draco hummed and put his coffee cup on the kitchen table. 

“Did you hear what I said? About dinner with the Potter’s afterwards?” she asked apprehensively. Draco turned to the next page and leaned back in his chair. 

“Yes, I did, love” 

“But-“

Draco finally put the paper down and met her gaze. “What? Did you want me to say no?” he quirked a dark blonde eyebrow. Hermione fiddled with her gold bracelet. 

“No.” _But I expected you to say no, and I had already prepared what I was going to reply to that_. Draco looked at her quizzically. 

“Well then,” he turned to another page, “what time does the game start?”

“At three.”

“Ah, perfect,” he replied and Hermione frowned, feeling annoyed with how easy he accepted to a double date with her friends; not that she didn’t want him to say yes, but she’d expected some resistance. She glared at him and drank her tea, forgetting it was still scolding hot. _Fuck_ , she burned her tongue badly. 

Determined not to let it show, she answered.

“Good, then it’s settled, I’ll let them know we’re coming then,” she said shortly, still waiting for him to say something, a comment about Harry or something about how he didn’t do double dates, or even just a scoff at the idea as a whole. Hermione left the table unsatisfied and put away the remains of her breakfast eggs and tea and decided to get ready for work. When she exited the kitchen area of his flat and started for the bathroom she could swear she heard him chuckle and it increased her irritation.

He was doing it on purpose, he must be, acting so casual and at ease only to frustrate her. In all honesty she knew it shouldn’t irritate her, it should make her happy that he was so willing to spend time with her friends, but it didn’t and she didn’t want to dwell on why that was. 

“Git,” she mumbled under her breath as she started to coat her lashes with mascara. 

“What’s that?” His voice startled her and mascara ended up on her eyelid. What a git indeed. 

“Brilliant,” she mumbled as she wet a cotton pad to remove the black colour from her lid. 

“You’re in a mood today,” he called from the adjoined bedroom. 

“I am not!” she exclaimed a little too harshly. This time she was sure he chuckled. 

“Are you sexually frustrated dear?” he asked as he entered the bathroom to get ready himself, the smirk plastered on his face made her want to smack it right off. 

She hadn’t seen him in over a week, and he’d sent her instructions to not touch herself while he was gone, simply because her pleasure was his. She had liked it at first, found it arousing even, but as the days passed it was maddening. He’d returned from New York yesterday and he hadn’t even touched her in that way, just asked how her week had been and what she’d been up to. 

They’d cozied up on the sofa and watched a movie, like they were just a regular muggle couple. She grimaced at the thought. He hadn’t seemed too tired to fuck, and she had expected them to, but no. It was most certainly all part of his game to drive her insane. She had contemplated just throwing herself on him when he’d brushed her breast with his arm reaching for the remote. She was almost convinced he’d done it deliberately.

 _Yes I am sexually frustrated_ , she thought. He didn’t deserve her honest answer though.

She went to stand in front of him, her lips inches from his. “No. You just annoy me, that’s all,” she answered but the way her fingertips traced over his biceps said otherwise. She left the bathroom to get dressed. Hermione did her best not to look at him as he stepped out of his grey slacks to replace them with a pair of black trousers. 

If he could go another day without sex then so could she. She was determined to not be the loser in this game of his. 

__

Draco was sure she would be at least a little happy, that he would earn _at least_ a small smile from her when he agreed to go on a somewhat sickening double date. He had nothing against the Weasley girl, didn’t really know her at all, but having dinner with scarhead was stretching his boundaries. Yet, he agreed, for her. It only seemed to annoy Hermione more. 

All morning he’d received angry glances from her across the table. It was highly amusing. He was sure he knew the reason for her poor mood and he almost felt sorry for her when she burned her tongue on the scolding hot tea she was chugging down in anger.

He overheard her mumbling something rude from the bathroom and couldn’t stop from smiling widely. He’d expected her to be frustrated yes, but not at this level. He wanted very much to fuck her. The way they’d been going at it the week before he left for New York was amazing, but how in the world would they be able to keep up that speed? When he came back yesterday she hadn’t initiated anything, and he thought that maybe it was because she needed a break from their strenuous activities, and a relationship was about more than just shagging. Besides, it would only make it so much better when they finally did. By the looks he was receiving this morning he might have misinterpreted last night by a long shot.

Hermione told him he _annoyed_ her and he was about to laugh at the falseness of her complaint when she stepped so close to him he could smell the mint on her breath. Her nose and lips close to his. I he pouted his lips the slightest he would be able to feel her. He could have her pinned against the tiles of the bathroom wall in no time. 

She was definitely teasing him, trying to goat a reaction from him. Draco shook his head in an attempt to escape whatever trance she’d managed to put him in, and joined her in the bedroom. 

When he got dressed he admired her stubbornness, he expected her to do something about what was bothering her, but she didn’t. If she’d only ask he’d give in to her in a heartbeat, but she had turned this game into something more, a game of _who’s a sucker for who_. He began suspecting the game would drag out until he gave in. If he had learned anything about Hermione it was she was an incredibly sore loser. It had been apparent that time they played wizard’s chess the week before he left. She lost and was pouting about it until the next morning. Telling him it was ‘ _a barbaric and pathetic game anyways_ ’. Draco however, took the win with pride.

Before Hermione left for work he eyed her up and down and told her she looked beautiful. Because she did, she _always_ did. Her pleaded skirt swayed around her hips as she walked to grab her bag. When she bent down to pick it up he was sure she was giving him the view on purpose, but he didn’t mind it at all. 

“Thanks,” she managed when she stood back up. When his lips left hers, he already felt like he missed her. She bit down on his bottom lip, knowing exactly what it would do to him. When she disappeared in a cloud of green from the chimney, he had a hard on. 

_Damn witch._

__

_Wednesday night at Grimmauld place._

“But is it necessary?” Harry asked while scratching his forehead. 

“She is our friend, and she seems really happy. As friends this is what we do,” Ginny stated and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“But dinner-“

“I swear to Merlin Harry,” she was gesturing wildly with her hands now, her cheeks turning as red as her hair. “ _We are doing this_.” It wasn’t up for discussion. Harry had been Hermione’s friend longer than Ginny had, and a closer one too. 

Harry mimicked her movements and crossed his arms as well, not letting the subject go at all. 

“It’s not dinner with Hermione that’s the problem it’s that Malfoy will be there too,” he spat and eyed his wife seriously. She huffed and rested her weight on one leg, the way she always did when she found him annoying. 

“Harry James Potter, you are doing this. Malfoy has changed, and I have already promised Hermione you are not holding the same grudges as Ron.”

Harry puffed his chest and adjusted his glasses. Apparently being married meant she thought she could promise things on his behalf. 

“You will be there, and you will be on your best behaviour.” Apparently she could decide things for him too. 

“I just don’t see it, the two of them. He was awful towards everyone at school, and especially to her,” he said because he really couldn’t understand it. 

When Ginny had told him about Hermione and Malfoy dating he had thought she was joking at first. How, why? It made no sense to him at all. Hermione was the cleverest person he’d ever met, and Malfoy although showing some redeeming qualities after the war, had still been a first class bully throughout their school years at Hogwarts. His stance in the war had little to do with his reluctance towards them dating, he knew Malfoy had his reasons for joining the wrong side. Harry didn’t accept it, but he could understand it at some level. But them dating? It was intolerable, his friend deserved better and he thought maybe she was just acting out like she had after the war. He always wished he could have done more for her during that time but she wouldn’t let him. 

“I don’t really get it either, not really,” Ginny admitted and uncrossed her arms in resignation. Harry’s eyes widened at her confession. “But that’s exactly why I want to meet with the two of them together. Hermione is serious about this and from what she explained so is he. We need to be supportive-“

“Fine,” Harry interrupted and sat down on the kitchen chair. Thinking he wasn’t fine with it at all, but Ginny had a point. 

She usually did.

__

Fantastic, Hermione thought when she ripped one of her stay ups when putting them on; she mended them with her wand and continued with her hair. It would most likely be windy at the audience stand by the quidditch pitch, so she chose to do her hair with purposeful caution, using up a fourth of her bottle of Sleekeazy’s hair potion. She hadn’t spoken to Draco since yesterday morning, she’d worked late Thursday night and it hadn’t made sense to bother him when she finished up. He’d told her he was going to Malfoy manor for afternoon tea with his mother, Narcissa. Maybe he spent the night there too. The thought of his family home sent chills down her spine, she pondered what it must've been like for him to grow up there. 

When she’d gone to bed that night in her own flat she wondered if Draco had told his mother about the two of them, and if so, how she had reacted. She felt something stir in her stomach at the thought. 

It was proven difficult to choose an outfit for the quidditch match. Anything that was casual and appropriate for attending a quidditch match wasn’t dinner at a restaurant worthy. She sighed and decided on a tight fitted dress in satin with a cowl neckline and straps that tied in a bow at the shoulders. The dress was in a plum shade that felt winter appropriate. She decided on a pair of black pointed toe heels and a dress robe that had a plum coloured collar, matching the dress. They were going to have dinner at a new restaurant in Diagon Alley, so it was suitable to wear a robe than a muggle style trench coat. 

When she was coating her lips with gloss she heard the floo-network signalling someone was coming through. With the heels of choice in her hands she hurried to the fireplace in her living room. Draco too had chosen a dress robe, she could make out a grey shirt underneath and a silver silk tie. It shouldn’t be allowed for him to wear anything grey or silver; his eyes looked so enchanting she stopped breathing for a few seconds. 

Draco was hit with the same delicate amber scent he had that one time they had gone on a date. The colour of her dress practically had him salivating like a fool. She was gorgeous. Would he ever not feel like she took his breath away? It was almost too disappointing to think they would be spending the night in the company of others. 

“I’m lost for words. That colour looks amazing on you,” he said instead of an ordinary hello.

Hermione looked at him in a way that had his pulse increasing. “We’re both way overdressed for a quidditch game.” It was meant as a compliment. 

Draco smirked. “Oh well, let the people stare,” he said, only slightly annoyed with the arrangements, he wasn’t one to show up underdressed to a restaurant so he’d rather be overdressed at the match. Apparently she had thought the same thing, and it made him feel a certain kind of way. He gave her a gentle kiss on her lips even though he wanted to kiss her until she gasped for breath.

He’d never been in her flat before. It wasn’t half the size of his place, but it was cosy, the living room was filled to the brim with bookshelves, she’d probably had then custom made to reach all the way from the floor to the high ceiling, making any guest question if they were in a living room or in a library. All the books were alphabetised. The door to her study was open and as he peeked inside he felt a sudden urge to clean it. There were books everywhere. It was completely cluttered with parchment and the desk had several ink stains that looked both old and new. Her place felt like a warm embrace, like a true home. There was no mistaking who the owner of the flat was by the number of picture frames of her friends and family. It was so … personal, messy and organised at the same time. He couldn’t help but frown slightly; did she even enjoy being at his flat? It seemed cold compared to hers.

“I know it’s more cluttered than yours,” Hermione said, only slightly embarrassed by how she had left her study, “and it’s too small, I feel like I’ve grown out of it,” she admitted when she saw him frowning. 

Draco tucked her into his embrace. “It’s very, you, I like it,” he mumbled as he caressed her cheek. They moved to sit down on the sofa. Hermione waved her wand, bringing the two glasses of champagne she had prepared, from her kitchen to the coffee table.

She placed one of the glasses in front of Draco. “Figured we could celebrate it’s finally the weekend,” she lolled, what she really meant was to offer something to calm their nerves. Not that Draco seemed to need it; it was mostly for her own benefit. 

Hermione leaned back, running her fingertips over the hem of the glass. Draco raised his, “cheers then,” he concurred whilst thinking of how many places in her flat they could christen had they not been playing this stupid, very much unspoken, game. The sexual tension between them had never been more apparent, just a brush of her thigh against his had his breathing going irregular and when he unconsciously put his hand on her shoulder as he spoke her lips parted and he could see her pupils dilating. He silently cursed Harry and Ginny for asking to have dinner tonight even though it was neither of their faults at all. The game was utterly ridiculous and he was determined for it to end sooner rather than later.

“I saw mother yesterday,” he said and it caught Hermione’s attention. “I told her about you and me, and … she wondered what your plans are for Christmas,” he said, but in all honesty they had bickered for while about it all. She’d given him a look of disappointment that reminded him of how she used to look when scolding him for riding his toy broom inside the Manor as a child. After some explanations on his part his mother reluctantly asked if it meant he wouldn’t be home for Christmas this year. 

It was his idea more so than his mother’s to invite Hermione. Draco was sure his mother would be fond of her if they got a chance to meet properly. He considered it a first wave in the sea that rocked the raft they were on. Hermione looked at him and he could see she was hesitant by the way she fiddled with the hem of her dress. 

The way he worded it made Hermione question what was left unsaid, although he'd told her that tim he thought his mother might be okay with the two of them. Was she? She wanted to ask exactly how the conversation had gone, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for the truth.

“I- I’m going to a cabin in Wales, to focus on work-“

“You are not-

“I need to get some work done, I-

“Can do that another time, not during Christmas, I won’t let you spend it alone,” he said as if it was his decision to make. Hermione looked at him firmly and he squeezed her thigh to reassure her he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t think it would go over well.

“Is Lucius going to be there?” she asked before finishing her glass of champagne at record speed. 

“No, mother assured me he wouldn’t. It would actually just be the three of us.” 

Hermione wanted to tell him that his drawing room was the place of many of her nightmares ant the thought of going back there was making her feel like she couldn’t breathe. The scar on her wrist suddenly felt freshly carved and when her gaze dropped to it his followed. 

They exchanged looks in silence. “Maybe we could celebrate at my place instead,” he said, reading her mind. 

Hermione hated showing weakness of any kind. “It’s not that. I- I’ll think about it, okay?” she said and refilled her glass. It was a lie because there was no way in hell she was going there, but she didn’t allow herself to think about that part of the war. The torture. Not since she’d stopped with the drugs to help cope. 

Draco looked at her pensively, trying to determine if she was telling the truth. She thought he decided she was, maybe because he didn’t want to think too much of that time either. 

She needed a smoke.  
__

Draco felt something he usually never did, the tiniest sliver of nervousness. If things went south tonight Hermione would not be happy. He smoothed down his tie and tried to think of Harry Potter as something else than an obnoxious prat. It was safe to say, he was unsuccessful in his weak efforts. He and Harry had never gotten along, but then again, they had never really tried to either. Draco was determined to try tonight, for Hermione’s benefit, not Harry’s.

They had disapparated after they’d finished off two glasses of champagne each. Hermione had seemed extraordinarily thirsty and it only made him feel more unsettled for tonight and for Christmas too. He wanted to spend it with Hermione but he couldn’t leave his mother alone. His father had said he had to stay in Scotland which Draco thought to be a lie, and he only cared because he felt sorry for his mother. 

The arena was buzzing with excitement, and they seemed to be walking up stairs for ages. He’d bought two scarfs in the colours of the Holyhead Harpies, green and gold, and draped one around Hermione’s neck, it jarred a bit with the colour of her dress, but she didn’t seem to mind so he shouldn’t either. When they stopped at the middle section and not at the far top Draco eyed her pensively. 

“I hate heights,” she said matter-of-factly, “so Ginny was kind enough to get us seats here.” Her tone made it clear it was not up for debate. 

Brilliant, Draco thought. Anyone who knew anything about quidditch knew you wanted seats at the far top for the best view. He took a deep breath. “This is fine,” he lied. Hermione accepted the answer even though he was sure she could tell he wasn’t truthful. The Malfoy’s never had lesser seats than the box seats at the top, surely she knew that and surely she didn’t care. For a moment he wondered if the Weasel himself was there. Were they friendly? Like he and Pansy? He shook the thought and concluded Hermione was in fact scared of heights - as pointless of a fear he thought that to be when being a skilled witch who could cushion any fall - and she did hate quidditch after all. 

Hermione studied Draco with caution, he was just staring onto the pitch, or, glaring at it would be a more accurate term. What was his problem anyway? It wasn’t the worst seats and she was saving him from a run in with Ginny’s entire family, her ex’s family. 

She was obstinate for tonight to go over smoothly, as if tonight would prove if their new, still rather fragile, commitment would work outside of the walls of his flat. She shoved the whole Christmas ordeal to the back of her mind, she had plenty of time to decide on that later on. 

She found it sweet that he bought her a Holyhead Harpies scarf, not having it in her to tell him she already had three at home and had forgotten to put one on simply because her mind had been occupied with numerous bad things she wanted him to do to her- when the champagne and nicotine relaxed her nerves and their conversation about Christmas was left at it. She shook her head, had her mind always been so filled with filth? Whatever game they had started to play was unsatisfying and she desperately needed for it to end. The game combined with planning for Christmas and worrying about tonight was too much to handle. 

They walked to stand by the railing and Hermione reached for his hand. Draco caressed her it with his thumb and gave her a small smile. There were reporters at every corner, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel they were going public with some dirty secret that wasn’t dirty at all, well not in that sense anyway.

The places next to them quickly filled with people, the floor made creaking sounds like it would break at any time. Hermione had to remind herself it was held together with magic and would be able to withstand triple the amount of people. Draco squeezed her hand as if he could tell what she was thinking, and she realised that was something that made her like him, he was so, _attentive_ to her, always aware of every small reaction. Maybe it should make her feel squeamish, like she was being looked at through a microscope, but it didn’t.

The stand was almost at full capacity, the floors were vibrating and the air was thick with anticipation for today’s game. 

“It’s been ages since I’ve watched a game,” he said in a tone of sincere happiness. He’d probably not been to a game since after the war. 

“I’m glad we’re doing this then,” she replied and leaned closer against him. He was standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her body and she thought this could be the first time she would enjoy watching a game. They earned a few glances from people shoving their way to the front of the railing, but neither of them paid any attention to it. Both were already aware when they accepted to go to the match it would have people talking. There wasn’t many in the wizarding society that hadn’t read about the Malfoy trials in the Prophet after the war, and Hermione’s efforts alongside the famous Harry Potter had escaped no one.

When she overheard a woman’s voice saying “why in the world is _she_ with _him?_ Is this a sick joke? He’s a _death eater_ ” she felt Draco’s body tense behind her. She looked over her shoulder but it was impossible to know who had said it. Hermione was met with not only two set of eyes, but about ten people as they walked by and made their way further up the stands. 

Draco fought the urge to pull out his wand and dare the person to say it again. He knew something like this was going to happen, and it would again. He already felt he was undeserving of being with her, she was pure and amazing and he was tainted with the choices of his past. It didn’t help to hear other people think the same. 

She met his eyes and she could see there was a storm going on; was it hurt she detected in there? She remembered the look from one of the nights in Hogsmeade, when he’d told her he was sorry for the torture she’d endured at his family home. The look on his face reminded her of that same one and she hated it.

“Let the sea swallow us, remember?” she said. That was what they had agreed on and it was what they were doing now. The cold water was the judgemental stares, causing waves in the sea, and the raft was a place that held only them. He managed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and she wished there was something she could do to prove to him she didn’t care what anyone said. He was hers and it was no one else’s business. 

Luckily the whistle was blown and the game began, having everyone focused on the pitch instead. When the stares ceased Draco silently vowed to not let anyone else’s opinions affect him. She was wrapped in his arms and they could all suck it. He’d withstood worse.

__

Hermione spotted Ginny quickly, playing the position of chaser. Admiring how she swished in the air so effortlessly, like the broom was part of her body. She could appreciate the skill it took, but the game itself did nothing to hold her attention when there was a tall gorgeous man pressed against her backside. Draco seemed to relax more when the game was in session, and on occasion he even appeared to be enjoying himself. 

The elation in the stand was contagious. People were screaming praise and profanities, waving their hands and their scarfs in the air. She turned her head to look at him. The blonde hair was occasionally caught by the wind and his cheeks had a slight pink tint to them, the kind you get when the air is nippy. The way he smiled and the innocent look in his eyes as he simply enjoyed the game made her knees feel week. She decided then and there to end this unsatisfying game they’d been playing for far too long. It was her stubbornness that had dragged it out after all. 

“The action is the other way, love." He smiled and flashed his pearly white teeth. 

It was almost a shame he was so tall, because when she brushed up against him, it barely reached the right spot, she had to stand on her toes for that. His smile turned into a dangerous smirk.

“What is it that you think you’re doing?” he quirked an eyebrow and looked at her with big grey eyes. 

“Just my way of saying I’m over this game of ours, whatever it is. I give up.”

Draco’s eyes went wide and she thought she detected something new, it wasn’t just lust, it was something more, that look of innocence was still there. 

“That’s good to know. I surrender too.” Forfeiting the game alongside her instead of taking the win. “But you need to stop rubbing up against me, because I can’t fuck you in front of all of these people,” he said only loud enough for her to hear while his hands tightened around her waist. 

She could feel his warm breath on her neck and when she turned her head to the point were her neck would snap with another inch, he kissed her in a way that from the outside would look tenderly, however the way his tongue ravished her mouth was anything but. She bit his bottom lip when the feeling of not having had release for far too long overpowered her.

“Hermione,” he said warningly, as if the way he’d just ravished her mouth wasn’t just as bad. She pressed her arse firmly against his body.

Her body was trapped tightly between his and the railing. She blamed herself for not declaring defeat when they’d been in her flat earlier, how could she have let that opportunity slip by? He could’ve taken her on her bed, on her sofa, on the floor of the kitchen. All she would’ve had to do was initiate it. 

The crowd was loud and people were jumping and screaming when the Holyhead Harpies scored the first goal. But they weren’t. The images playing in her mind combined with weeks of being unsatisfied had her body ache for his.

“What are you thinking about?” Draco asked when he caught the glazed look in her eyes.

“What we’ve been denying ourselves,” she replied shamelessly. His eyes went dark and she knew what that meant.

“Oh yeah?” he smirked and she bit her bottom lip. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, because the colours on the pitch had started to melt together into a blur. “Let’s just leave.”

“We can’t leave,” he said whilst looking around. They were squeezed in tight between people on either side, it would be like trying to walk through tar and they would draw unwanted attention. She slid her hand up his thigh just as the The Wimbourne Wasps seeker caught sight of the golden snitch and the crowd was sent into frenzy. How had he ever been able to think this woman was a prude? 

“But you look so good in that tie and I feel like I’ve been on the edge for over a week, I want to-“ 

“Cum?” he whispered into her ear, and to anyone else it would look like they were just trying to communicate through the sounds of the crowd. 

“Yes,” she said because her brain had stopped working the second she’d allowed her brain to make up compromising images.

“ _You should be careful,_ ” he spoke with emphasis on each word while his hands found their way under her robe, squeezing her arse through the fabric of her dress, “ _of what you_ ” his fingertips were grazing the thin fabric of her knickers, “ _ask for love,_ ” Two fingers slid inside of her. 

_Oh fuck._ Her breath caught in her throat.

She managed a look around her. Everyone was shoved together one way or another, so their closeness wasn’t out of the ordinary. Not that she actually cared right now, not when his fingers were sliding in and out of her at just the perfect pace. 

“Not a sound love,” he whispered and only seconds after the command, she whimpered. For a brief second she thought he might stop, but instead his speed increased and she was almost there.

“Scchh.” He bit down on her earlobe, to anyone else it would look like he kissed her on her neck.

Hermione fought to hold back the many moans threatening to leave her lips, her eyes were glued to the pitch without actually seeing it. His thumb rubbed on her sensitive nub and she felt herself starting to let go, she forced her eyes to stay open, like she was just watching the game intensely. Her cunt gripped his fingers hard as her orgasm consumed her.

_Oh Merlin, Oh fuck, Oh Draco._

His body pressed tightly onto hers was the only thing keeping her from falling to the floor when she came back down. 

Draco chuckled in her ear. “How was that love?”

“You’re crazy,” was all she had in her to reply, it was more a compliment than a complaint.

“I could say the same.” The smug smirk on his face had her shaking her head and smiling widely, she had no retort; he was speaking the very truth and her knickers were ruined.

__

Harry rubbed his hands together to keep warm, feeling tense and annoyed as he sat in one of the box seats at the quidditch arena next to George. Molly and Arthur were there too, supporting their daughter. The rest of the Weasley siblings were no shows. Harry could understand why Ron had lied and told him he would be away on a mission. His friend clearly wanted to avoid a run in with his ex and Malfoy.

The mere thought of them being a _couple_ had knots forming in his stomach. Ginny had told him not to let Ron in on the news she had shared that night at dinner, so naturally he had. The look on Ron’s face when he’d told him was worrying in many ways, he’d turned so white he looked like he was going to either faint or throw up on Harry’s shoes. He’d only managed incoherent sentences and a couple of outbursts that had his face turn from white to bright red like his hair, and back to white again when he mumbled something about Malfoy touching his _precious_ Hermione. Yes that was the exact wording he’d used. At those words Harry excused himself, leaving the room so quickly he almost tripped over his shoelaces. 

He drank a bit more firewhiskey from George’s hip flask than he should. Determined to look for signs of Hermione’s state of mind tonight. Clearly she couldn’t be well if she was dating that ferret, it was incomprehensible to him. Tonight felt like a betrayal towards Ron, he should be the one with Hermione tonight, not Malfoy. His friend never really did explain why they had broken up, and Hermione had avoided him anytime they’d crossed paths at the Ministry. Their breakup had put a wedge between the three of them, and he thought Hermione figured he’d taken Ron’s side. He hated it and he missed how close they used to be. Ginny thought their breakup had something to do with _intercourse_ , and it made him feel uncomfortable in many ways.

One does not give up on a relationship only because the sex wasn’t perfect. Right? 

When he took another sip of the firewhiskey he felt a little guilty for not paying attention to his extraordinary wife on the quidditch pitch.

George pinched his arm and looked at him accusingly. Harry grimaced. “Sorry mate.” 

He shook his head and took the bottle from Harry’s hands “Jeez, could’ve saved me some,” he said after emptying the flask of the last drops. It hadn’t even occurred to Harry he’d almost drunk it all himself. 

_Oh bullocks_ , he thought when the colours on the pitch started to mesh together and sweat started forming on his forehead. The whiskey did seem to make him more relaxed though. He leaned back and decided to demand a recap of the game from George before meeting up with Ginny afterwards. She wouldn’t be too happy to find out he’d emptied George’s hip flask during the first half hour of the game. 

_Oh, to be married._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kept getting longer and I had to break it into two ... Their dinner night with the Potter's will be in the next chapter instead! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it took a while to write and I'm sorry for the late update!! Please leave any thoughts you might have after this one, did you like it? Were there parts you didn't like as much?
> 
> I live for your comments, they always have me smiling like a fool.
> 
> Lots of love!


	15. I see it now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco meet up with the Potter's for dinner at a new restaurant in Diagon Alley, the silence is defeaning at first and Harry is feeling the effects of the firewhiskey. Ginny is determined to get some answers from Draco.
> 
> A lot of fluff in this one I would say.

The awkward silence was swallowing them whole. Draco cleared his throat too loudly and it caused Harry, who was seated opposite him, to look up from his menu. The restaurant was busy, the slightly stressed atmosphere made it obvious it was opening night. 

Hermione quickly gathered Harry was in fact holding some grudges and Ginny had clearly been experimental with the truth. It was evident by the way he kept observing Hermione as if to see if she’d gone insane, lost her marbles and joined a cult. 

The glares made her highly uncomfortable and the way his hands kept drumming on the surface of the table made nothing to ease her need for nicotine. She stepped outside for a cigarette twice, only feeling slightly guilty for leaving Draco alone with the Potter’s.

Harry was convinced Hermione was out of her mind; he kept looking for signs but found none. She looked nervous, yes. Smoking her lungs out before their drinks had even arrived. Ginny and Draco exchanged some pleasantries while she was gone, and he gulped down water to try and make his vision less blurry and his speech steadier. 

_Damn George and his flask._

Hermione and the ferret exchanged looks that held so much intensity and unspoken communication it made the firewhiskey stir in his stomach; he was forced to look away. 

Was his firewhiskey-induced state making him imagine it all? Because he’d never seen her look at Ron that way.

“So…,” Harry said and continued to drum his fingers against the table top. It was starting to give Draco a headache. “This is ... you two-“ Hermione almost felt sorry for her friend as he tried to break the silence. 

“Look amazing, that dress Hermione! It’s gorgeous,” Ginny said, trying to save her husband from saying something he might regret. Hermione shot her a crooked smile, and complimented her back. Ginny was wearing a beautiful black one-piece with a deep v in the front and back. She looked stunning and athletic in a way anyone would envy.

“Congrats on the win Ginny, I’m sorry we’re stealing you away. Is the team celebrating without you tonight?” Draco asked. 

Ginny batted her lashes, and told them the team had to make due without her tonight. When she asked if they’d enjoyed the game Draco shot Hermione a telling look, she knew exactly what part of the game he was thinking about. 

“I did, it’s been ages since I watched one. I think even Hermione enjoyed this one, didn’t you, love?” He placed his hand on her thigh under the table and Hermione placed hers on his, stroking her fingertips over his smooth skin. Neither of them noticed how Harry flinched at the word _love._

__

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. Hermione hated quidditch, she wondered if Draco perhaps wasn’t referencing to the game at all. 

It was impossible not to notice her husband shooting strange glances at Hermione and the way he was drumming his fingers excessively against the table was starting to annoy her. She placed a hand over his to stop it. 

Both Hermione and Draco did look amazing, and when she looked at the way Draco had done his tie she decided Harry needed to work on his Windsor knot. The way they looked at each other was almost too much. She could clearly see why they had to step away for their activities in the bathroom to relieve some of that tension on their first date. The attraction between the two was undeniable- but attraction and actual feelings were two different things, and she wanted tonight to be a testament to if Draco was as serious as Hermione about their relationship. 

It was all in the interest of looking out for her friend. She’d seen Hermione falling off the deep end after the war, and she feared she would again if Draco’s intentions weren’t as pure as she thought them to be. She pondered if she should ask him straight out, but decided it would be impolite. 

“How is work Draco? Still travelling the world?” The question was innocent enough. The man met her gaze and he almost looked too calm for comfort. 

“Yes, work is progressing well actually, and fortunately, I’ll be home for the Holidays,” Draco said. 

“And then?” she pressed on. Draco smoothed his tie. Ginny considered if it was a sign of nervousness. Everybody at the table seemed on edge, but she was not. After playing the game today she was exhausted, she’d downed two cups of coffee straight after, not missing how her husband seemed to have a hard time focusing his gaze. She offered him a cup too and it seemed to sober him up. He was not one to drink and she couldn’t blame him when she’d been the one to force dinner.

“And then I’ll be back at work. Most likely heading back to New York in January,” he said and the way Hermione looked down at her hands in her lap didn’t go unnoticed. Had they even discussed a long distance relationship and what that entailed? Some people might think it wasn’t her business, but Ginny was the type of woman that made everything her business. 

“I see,” Ginny answered and gave him a stern look. It had him adjusting the tie around his neck. Definitely a sign of discomfort, she concluded. “Will you be back for Hermione’s speech in front of the Wizengamot?” 

“I hope to be,” he answered. Hermione squeezed his hand. 

Ginny went on about how Hermione was aiming for the minister position and that she most likely would get it. She proceeded to ask how Draco felt about it, she knew she was pressuring him but she couldn’t care less if her questions made him uncomfortable. She wondered how Malfoy would take to being the man by her side in such a public way, especially when it would tie him to her political views and decisions she’d make in office. 

“I’ve already made my support for her ambitions clear, nothing would make me happier than for her to reach her goals,” he said and Ginny found the answer to be that of a politician. He chose his words with caution, but she was still satisfied with what the answer entailed.

She continued her questioning by asking him where he stood in the question of Hermione’s reform, and as soon as she asked she saw her friend giving her a firm look that told her to stop with the interrogation. Ginny ignored it.

“I believe the laws currently in place are out-dated and in need of a reform,” he said, again with the politician type of answer, not truly taking a stance to what he thought about it. Ginny honestly didn’t know that much about the reform, she only knew some thought it to be radical. 

Everyone fell silent again. Their drinks were finished in record time. Hermione was starting to feel the alcohol making its way into her system, leaving her more relaxed and at ease with the situation at hand. She wanted them all to get along, but so for it had been too much awkward silence and she hadn’t missed Ginny’s attempt to interrogate Draco on his intentions. To lighten the mood she decided she’d order them a bottle of white wine to go with their starters. Urging everyone to choose something savoury for starters because it would go well with the wine. Instructing the waiter to not bring the bottle to the table, she wanted them to guess what wine it was. She and Ginny had tried it at one of their wine tastings and she was sure Draco would know of it as well. 

A tall boy, with curly black hair, who didn’t seem to be more than seventeen, arrived with the wine, he looked like he was going to trip over his own legs when he saw who the people at the table were. The liquid almost escaped the glasses as he began emptying the tray one glass at a time. 

He cleared his throat. “So, this is a-

“Oh, don’t spoil the surprise,” Draco said abruptly. The boy looked at the blonde wizard with big scared eyes when he realised his mistake. 

Ginny felt terribly sorry for him, Hermione had to bite her lip from laughing and Harry didn’t seem to care at all. They hadn’t been drinking that much for Harry to look so dishevelled, Hermione thought. 

“I- I- I’m.” he stuttered and swallowed hard. Draco cocked his head to the side; waiting for the boy to continue whatever sentence he wanted to say. “Of course not, Mr Malfoy. “ He nodded his head anxiously, looking like he was scared for his life. When he placed the wineglass in front of Draco his hand was shaking violently, some of the liquid spilled out onto Draco’s hand as he reached for the glass. 

Draco sighed and stared with disappointment at the boy who’s face blossomed red. “So sorry Sir,” he said and Draco wanted to suggest the boy get a haircut, it must be impossible to see with all that hair covering his eyes. 

“It’s fine,” Ginny said and Harry reached for the two remaining glasses on the tray to help the boy out. 

The boy retreated quickly when his work was done. 

Hermione shoved Draco in the side with her elbow. “You shouldn’t have said that,” she blamed. 

“The poor boy looked like he was going to cry,” Ginny added. 

Draco huffed. “Oh, come on, he had instructions to follow-“

“He was just nervous,” Harry defended. 

Draco sighed for what felt like the hundred time since dinner had started. There was no winning with these guys; all goody two-shoes Gryffindor’s with their whole rising above mentality. He suddenly felt very lonely, missing the company of his Slytherin mates. 

“He sure did get the short end of the stick tonight didn’t he? I bet no one wanted their first night of waiting tables to be with us as guests,” Hermione continued. 

Finally something they could all agree on.

Ginny was the first one to try the wine, and she looked at Hermione appreciatively, more so for the fact there was alcohol at their table than for the wine itself. “Don’t expect me to have any memory recollection from our wine tastings.” Hermione gave her red haired friend a knowing look. By the time the wine tasting ended they’d continued drinking and Ginny had been shitfaced by the time they left. 

She shook her head. “Alright. Anyone else care to venture a guess?”

Harry made a face that he thought no one saw; the wine was too sweet for his liking. 

Draco swirled the wine in his glass to mix in the oxygen before tasting it. He hummed in appreciation as he swallowed. “Moscato?” She couldn’t help but to be impressed. 

“Correct,” she said as if he’d just given the right answer to a test sheet. “It’s sweet, but I like that you can really detect the-“

“The honeydew melon,” he answered after another sip. This was something they had in common, she thought. They may have been brought up severely different, but this, they had this. 

“I can’t detect anything, just the sweetness,” Harry said, a little confused, looking at the glass as if would tell him the answer. 

_Honeydew melon? Twats._

Both Hermione and Draco looked at Harry like he was an alien. “But the honeydew melon is very prominent in this one,” Hermione told him. “I’m sure you’ll taste it if you try,” she continued as if he wasn’t trying hard enough. Reminding Harry of the many times at Hogwarts when Hermione pressured him to do better at school even though he couldn’t care less about writing his herbology paper. 

_Merlin he’d missed her lately._

“The pear really lingers doesn’t it?” Hermione said and looked at Harry expectantly.

“Yes,” Harry lied and earned an amused look from his wife.

“It certainly does. This doesn’t happen to be Bartenura Moscato?” Draco asked curiously. 

Hermione smiled widely. “Yes, you’ve had it before?”

“I think I have, blue bottle right?” Hermione wanted to kiss him then, but settled for a nod. 

The way she was beaming towards the blonde prick had Harry feeling a sting of guilt. Not for lying about tasting the pear, but for being so suspicious. He’d always considered Hermione to be exactly what Ron needs, but looking at Hermione now, she looked like she’d just found what she needed. It was appalling and sweet at the same time, kind of like that damn wine. 

“I see it now,” he blurted. How had he not seen the resemblance before? “You’re both such … snobs-“ It was the firewhiskey speaking more so than Harry himself. Draco looked at him sternly but Harry had never been afraid of him, considered him a bit of a coward even. 

“Excuse me?” Draco interrupted before Harry could finish his thought, and sat his glass down on the table like he was gearing up for a fight. 

Hermione felt conflicted, Harry did have a way of expressing himself without thinking at times, but they were not snobs. 

“I see it too,” Ginny tittered. All eyes shifted to her, but she didn’t seem to mind. She swallowed slowly and eyed first Hermione, then Draco, with seriousness. Taking her time before speaking.

“It’s safe to say you two are not the most expected pairing” she gestured at the two of them, “but seeing you together ... It looks right.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not so much just that you’re total wine snobs, it’s the way you interact,” she continued the analysis no one had asked for. 

Her eyes narrowed as she was watching the two of them. “Like you’re on a different wave length then the rest of us commoners, I can’t even understand what you talk about most of the time when you speak of your work Hermione, and I bet Draco gets it all when you do, maybe even comes with clever insights, perhaps even finds it interesting” she continued, like she was judging their very existence, pointing at the two of them with her fork as she spoke. 

Draco and Hermione exchanged a look and Harry didn’t like his wife describing him as a commoner.

“And you’ve come to this conclusion how? Because we know our wine?” Hermione said and Ginny rolled her eyes because her friend didn’t even realise how much in that sentence just proved her statement. It was full of her “know-it-all qualities. ”And my work is interesting,” Hermione continued and straightened her back. 

“Of course it is, I find you talking about the implementations of the Secrecy act in Norway just as interesting as you find it when I talk about game tactics.” Ginny drawled sarcastically. 

_Touché,_ Hermione thought. 

“But the way Norway has implemented the Secrecy act is substantially different to how we do it here in Britain, for example-“ Draco stopped when Ginny cocked her eyebrows at him. He leaned back in his seat and comforted himself with another sip of wine. 

“See!” Harry said and gestured imperiously towards the couple sitting opposite, making both Draco and Hermione roll their eyes. 

“Right,” Draco said and smiled slightly. Even though Ginny’s analysis of him and Hermione contained questionable statements, it was perchance meant as a twisted compliment. Acceptance even. He reminded himself it was a good thing. 

“Okay, so now that we’ve established me and Draco aren’t the weirdest thing to happen in the history of time, can we stop with the analysing and the strange stares?” Hermione said and focused especially on Harry, before turning her gaze to Ginny, who waved her hand dismissively, like she hadn’t just practically said they fit together because they were both stuck up prats. At least they both saw something that made sense to them. Perhaps she should just take it as a win and not overthink it.

The dinner mood seem to lighten after that, even if Harry and Draco bickered over who had most knowledge of quidditch, when Hermione and Ginny both knew Ginny was the one and neither of the two. 

__

“Shit ‘Mione,” Ginny said in front of the mirror in the bathroom, “the way you two are gawking at each other, it’s like your undressing each other with your eyes.” 

Hermione laughed. “Oh, we _are not._ ” 

“I beg to differ,” Ginny quipped. “It’s cute, reminds me of how Harry makes me feel.” 

The wine was making itself reminded and Hermione had been dying to let someone in on how she felt. “I think I’m love with him,” she confessed, focusing her gaze on her hands as she put the gloss back into her clutch. 

Ginny stopped fuzzing with her hair immediately, placing her hands on Hermione’s shoulders. “Oh my sweet friend, of course you are. It’s written all over your face.”

Hermione started gushing then, all about those grey eyes, the way his arms made her feel safe, how dramatic he was and how good he was with words. Telling how he constantly surprised her, sometimes annoyed her immensely and how he accepted her for who she had become after the war. She admired the way he had stood up against his father and the prejudices he’d been thought to believe in from birth. 

It felt therapeutic to finally be able to gush about him. Admitting all she was feeling to herself at the same time she spoke it out loud. “And it’s all terrifying too,” she finished.

Ginny’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “If the looks he’s giving you are anything to go by, he feels the same way about you. I never thought I’d say this about Draco Malfoy, but the two of you are adorable.”

Hermione waved her hand dismissively, blushing faintly. 

“I’m happy for you, the both of you. I think he could need some love in his life. Don’t think his father gave him too much, you know?” She leaned against the sink and Hermione waited until the women washing their hands next to them left. Almost positive they’d been listening in. 

“Suppose he hasn’t,” she said and redid the bow on her left shoulder with care. Feeling a sudden need to get back to the table. They had left Harry and Draco alone for quite some time now. She could only hope both would be intact when they got back. 

“But do tell, what do you mean, him _having a way with words?_ ” Ginny said as they made their way through the restaurant. The smell of food filled her nostrils and, and she’d had just enough liquid courage to make her feel giddy, liberated and free of restraints. 

“Oh. Let’s just say he’s good at the sweet-talking, and the _not_ so sweet-talking,” Hermione said cryptically, while giggling like a teenager. Their bedroom fun was theirs alone. 

Ginny smiled big and shook her head. “I swear, you sound like you have the most amazing time fucking each other,” she said dreamily. Hermione watched her with adoration, feeling happier than she thought she’d had in a long time. Like she’d been trapped in a current since the war, just now realising she had stopped fighting against it a while ago, trusting it would lead her home. Having Ginny’s acceptance and the man she never knew was her dream come true had her feeling she could climb mountains.

And then there he was, his eyes met hers and she was sure she saw her future in them. 

_She was unreservedly done for it now, wasn’t she?_

_Well fuck me,_ she thought while resuming her seat next to the wizard to blame. 

__

Draco was at his wits end with discomfort when the women left the table. He’d never understood why they always travelled in pairs to the bathroom. 

“Would you stop with the drumming, Potter?” he requested. The wine had done nothing to soothe his headache. 

Harry adjusted his glasses on his nose and let his hands rest. Not happy about the twat’s attitude. 

He glared at him to convey it. “A _real_ ferret might be better company,” it was the firewhiskey talking again. What was he, a five year old?

“Oh yeah?” Draco said and couldn’t help but grip the wand in its holster. 

Harry noticed. “Have at it if you want, I’m not afraid of you,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

Draco rolled his eyes and Harry thought it to be the most annoying thing in the world. 

“I’m not going to duel you in a restaurant, I’m not ten,” Draco retorted. Harry clenched his jaw. “Look. You and I? We’ll never be friends, I’m doing this for her, so just get off it.” 

_As if he wasn’t too doing this for Hermione?_

“There was a time you wanted to be my friend, first year ring a bell” Harry mocked and tilted his head to the side. Yup. Firewhiskey talking again. 

_I should shut up, shouldn’t I?_ Harry thought to himself.

Draco was staring daggers at him now and Harry felt laughter was about to bubble out of him. He’d out duel the twat faster than Malfoy could get the stick out of his arse. 

“I get that you want to be loyal to your Weasel friend, and I bet it stings that your other friend chose me. But fact is she did. Get over it already,” Draco drawled, as if it’s been going on for ages and Harry hadn’t found out about it only a few weeks ago. 

“His name is Ron,” Harry corrected because he had no other retort. 

"To-may-to, To-mah-to,” Draco said to declare unimportant differences. 

Harry sipped his wine even though he needed no more alcohol. “You care about her then?” 

“I do.”

“Why?” Harry questioned, looking at Draco through thin slits. 

“Because she’s amazing, has the most brilliant mind.“ _and she’s gorgeous, funny without even knowing, and stubborn as hell. Not to mention her bedroom kinks._

“She’s had that brain of hers for years you know, you’ve never seemed to notice that before,” Harry interrupted, not allowing himself to dwell on the fact he had described he liked her intellect rather than her looks. 

“I suppose she has,” Draco said honestly, not wanting to get into his and Hermione’s past. “But she is changed from the war and so am I, and her so called friends, weren’t really there for her when she had a hard time, were they?” 

Harry’s cheeks turned pink. He crossed his arms defensively. 

“We tried. She was being difficult about it all and-“

“You didn’t understand what she was going through because neither of you cared enough to try,” Draco interfered, feeling good about calling him out on the bullshit. He spoke calmly, even though there was anger erupting in his chest, his magic crackling at his fingertips. 

Harry was furious now, who has he to guilt trip him? He never did understand her behaviour after the war. When everyone was moving on she wasn’t. The ferret was right, but he wasn’t about to admit that. 

“And you did? Were you there for her after the war?” he asked with mock defence, thinking he knew the answer. The perplexed look on Draco’s face said otherwise. 

“In some ways.” Fucking her senseless wasn’t’ exactly _being_ there for her. “To think you drove her right into my arms,” he said, more to himself than to Harry. 

Harry snorted. “What does that even mean? You’ve been in contact straight after the war?” He felt clueless now. Before Ron and Hermione got together again then? How had he not known about this?

 _Because he had been more concerned with moving on with Ginny than caring about his friend._ The guilt was overwhelming and he was sure it was showing on his face. 

“Yes and no.” 

Harry didn’t like that Malfoy spoke in riddles. Reminded him too much of how Dumbledore used to speak. Not that the git was comparable to Dumbledore in any stretch of the imagination. 

“What do you mean yes and no?” He demanded clarification.

“Oh, I don’t kiss and tell,” Draco drawled and clasped his hands together, sealing in their secrets. 

The look on his face was that of superior smugness, he thought he knew what that meant. Perhaps it had been about _sex, shagging, doing the dirty?_ Was the twat and his bedroom abilities the reason for Hermione leaving Ron? 

_Nope. No way in hell he was going there._

__

He could breathe again. Now that she was in his line of sight the torture of being alone with scarhead almost felt worth it. He could see it in her steps, and the smile on her glossy lips as she laughed at something Ginny said. She was happy, it was radiating all around her. His eyes darted to her exposed collarbone, her shoulders. He could envision it clearly, just a small tug at the satin ribbons on each shoulder and the dress would pool at her ankles. 

_Head out of the gutter, head out of the gutter,_ he disciplined himself, trying to discourage the blood rushing to his neither regions. Their eyes met and he wondered what she saw in his. Hers glittered, like they reflected the sparkle of fireworks. The smile forming on his lips was one he reserved only for her. 

He knew then, he’d endure thousands of dinners just like this one if it meant she’d look like that. 

__

When they’d said their goodbyes, Ginny and Harry walked for a while before disapparating home. Appreciating the fresh, cold air, and the distant sound of Christmas carollers blessing their ears. 

Ginny talked about how she thought the dinner had meant a lot to Hermione, and that she could tell they were both smitten. She thought it to be cute and was hoping they wouldn’t face too much trouble when the news leaked to everyone else in the papers. They must’ve been captured in photographs today, with all the journalists swarming around like bothersome bees. She also told him Hermione was planning on talking to Malfoy about how they’d make it work with long-distance, since he travels so much for work, and that she’d been invited to the Malfoy’s for Christmas.

“When did you talk about all this?” Harry asked curiously. He hadn’t been that far gone in the firewhiskey had he?

“In the bathroom,” Ginny said and took the hand he reached out. Interlocking her fingers with his.

_What, so they just talk while they pee?_

She noticed the confusion on his face. “Oh, you men are missing out on so many things, you’ll never know the joy of getting a compliment on your outfit in the loo,” she said pointedly. 

Harry shook his head and scoffed. His wife eyed him seriously now. “It’s because of our patriarchal society really, such a shame the society has decided men can’t do that. You can still you know. Break the barrier.” Harry got the feeling she was no longer talking to him as much as at him, giving him a lesson of sorts. 

_Ah yes, the patriarchal society was the reason for him and twat-head not strutting off to the bathroom together, whipping out their…_ wands, _and chit-chatting their hearts away._

“Yes, your right, I should be breaking the barrier and ask Malfoy to join me in the bathroom next time we have dinner,” he said sarcastically, making himself ill as he said it. 

Ginny laughed and it made his heart stutter. Her laugh could brighten the darkest of days.

“I’ve always found your sass lovely,” she said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s why I married you.”

“I bet it is, honey.” He squeezed her hand. 

_He wasn’t being sassy, was he?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed you enjoyed this chapter!!
> 
> I tried to describe each of the characters feelings about dinner together, hoping it wasn't too messy to follow. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment, did you like the way the characters were described? Their reactions? Anything you didn't care for? 
> 
> I'm currently working on the next chapter as well as a flashback chapter which will be published as a one shot. So keep a look out if you're interested in reading that!
> 
> Thanks for still sticking with the story and for all the love you have already given it!!
> 
> Lots of love.


	16. A merry Malfoy Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has mixed feelings about spending Christmas at the Manor. They along with their friends and family recieve a magazine with an article about the two. The picture that goes with the article has Hermione feeling a bit uncomfortable. 
> 
> Mostly fluff, a bit of angst and some smut in this one!
> 
> A belated merry Christmas to you, and sorry for the late update, and please note a flashaback chapter is up!!

Perched in the dark on the window seat, Draco watched how the snowflakes swirled in the wind, coming to rest on the pavement beneath. He wondered if it would stick. Malfoy manor did look particularly beautiful covered in snow. His mind drifted to the time he’d made angels in the snow with his mother, only for his father to later scold him for making the floors dirty when he’d come back inside. Lucius had always hated Christmas, Draco never did find out why that was.

A gentle hand reached out and touched his hair, fingers running through his fringe, he looked up to meet two golden brown eyes looking tenderly at him. She placed a warm cup in his hands and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes and tried to memorize the feel of her lips against his skin. He wasn’t really awake yet, but when he’d opened one of his eyes to peek at his surroundings early this morning and spotted the flakes fluttering outside, he couldn’t stay asleep. 

The sky was a white grey and he used the warmth from the cup to heat up his soul. He loved Christmas almost as much as he hated it. When he returned to school after Christmas he’d always have plenty of new quidditch gear, toys or other things to brag about. It took him a long time to realise the gifts were empty, hollow even, a bribe to keep him happy. They never did. With one aunt in prison, another exiled for marrying a muggle, it left only him, his mother and father to celebrate. He’s father usually drank too much and his mother tried to distract him from it.

His favourite part had always been Christmas mornings, when his mother would let him pick a fairy-tale for her to read him. He always picked the same, even as child he’d liked things to be predictable, to know what to expect. She’d cradle him in her lap and read with enthusiasm. When he’d gotten older his father had made it clear he was too old for fairy-tales, he’d been six at the time. 

“It’s really coming down isn’t it,” Hermione said, her voice like sunshine, bringing the light to his own darkness. But he knew there was darkness in her too, just not as much as there had been that night he’d met her at the Leaky Cauldron. 

He hummed in response. 

“Thanks for the tea,” he said and held her gaze. She gave him a faint smile, and he wondered if she was reminiscing about Christmas with her parents, and what they had been like. Had they been filled with love? Had her parents let her believe in Santa until she found it all out on her own?

“You okay?” she asked as her fingertips grazed his cheek. 

“I am now.” Her brown eyes gave him hope that not all Christmases had to be hollow. 

After dinner with the Potter’s Hermione had told him something unbelievable. And he’d made her tell him several times since, still waiting to thoroughly believe it. He always said it back of course, and it made his heart swell each time. 

“Tell me again,” he said, like a needy child wanting to be held. 

“I love you.” Draco searched her eyes for hesitation. There was none, there never was, but he felt he had to make sure. She leaned closer, her lips lightly brushing against his. Their lips moved in sync, like they’d always been meant to move together in unison. 

“I love you too,” his voice came out raspy, like a broken whisper and he felt guilty for it. She was the one spending Christmas without her family. 

If it wasn’t for his mother he’d be happy to spend the holidays hidden away with her in that cabin in Wales. The snow outside had a feeling of melancholy spreading in his chest. The pavement was almost covered in a fluffy white blanket when he finally snapped out of it. 

When he downed his lukewarm tea he grimaced. She had definitely put the milk in before the tea. He still drank it though and his lips curved into an involuntary smile. 

He gathered some strength and decided to not regret the decision to invite Hermione to spend Christmas with him and his mother, he could only hope they would get along. He stood, stretching his body and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, making his way to the kitchen of Hermione’s flat. 

“What’s that?” he asked. Hermione was stood by the kitchen counter in her lavender satin robe, gripping the magazine in her hands, her expression pure shock. 

He went to stand behind her, looking over her onto the magazine. “Oh wow,” he said, a smirk lurking at his features, tilting his head to the side to see it from another angle. He had to fight back the laughter bubbling inside. 

“Don’t you dare laugh, this is- it’s not funny,” she scowled as they both watched the moving image in the magazine. 

“Didn’t know you subscribed to that crap.” Draco was trying hard to hide his amusement. 

“I’m not, it came attached with a letter, asking for a statement. There’s an entire article to go with it.” 

Draco read it over her shoulder, and rolled his eyes at the headline, _From enemies to lovers_ , oh the stupidity these journalist’s came up with. 

Hermione snorted indignantly. “ _Does the man have a lover in every city_ ,” she read out loud and shook her head. 

“Ah, yes, apparently I’m that good,” he said and earned an elbow in his stomach. “Ouch!”

“Oh, just shut it you,” she said and turned around. Draco sat his cup down and embraced her when she turned around. 

“I only have the one,” he kissed the freckles on her nose. “And whatever shithead wrote that can piss off, not the finest investigative article written, now is it?”

“Trash is what it is. I would love to know who all of these sources are though, and if they even exist at all.” 

“Twats all of them.” He rubbed circles on her back. 

“Do you think anyone would be able to tell just what is happening here?” Hermione nodded towards the magazine on the counter. 

“Nah, don’t think so,” he said and winked.  
__

Ronald Weasley spat his scolding hot morning coffee all over his hands and his sister’s edition of Witches weekly in front of him. He was sat at the kitchen table in the Burrow this morning, the date on the paper read 24:th of December.

“Fuck, fuckery, fuck,” he muttered angrily as he wiped the coffee away from his hands and used a cooling charm to calm the burned skin. 

It was the picture in the magazine that had him startled this morning. It wasn’t so much whom she was accompanied by at his little sister’s quidditch game, he knew she was going there with the blonde ferret. No, it was the expression on the face of his ex lover, a look all too familiar to him. It was the way Hermione’s brows slightly furrowed as, the way her pupils were dilated and how her lips parted bit before her teeth grazed her buttom lip, biting back a moan. Staring at the picture he could hear the sound escaping her lips as her knees weakened. 

He pulled the paper closer to his eyes, looking at where Malfoy had his hands. He wasn’t surprised to notice his hands were nowhere to be seen.

Muttering a series of profanities to himself while fighting the urge to tear the paper to shreds. The blonde git was making Hermione orgasm in the middle of the crowd, at his sister’s quidditch game none the less. He abandoned his coffee and the morning sandwich he’d prepared.

“Stupid blonde haired git,” he mumbled but still unable to take his eyes off the picture. He wanted to be sure he wasn’t reading too much into it. The more he looked the surer and nauseous he felt. They were good though, he had to give them that, because it wouldn’t be visible to an untrained eye. Unable to step away from the paper he read the entirety of the article. Gripping the paper hard with his hands.

> **From enemies to lovers**

> Redeemed death eater Draco Malfoy and golden girl Hermione Granger spotted at Friday’s quidditch game, cheering on the Holyhead Harpies along with the rest of the crowd. Britain’s most unlikely of alliances showed up to the quidditch match hand in hand, an act that sent shockwaves through the wizarding community.
> 
> “The two of them are inseparable,” a source close the couple admits. “She’s absolutely smitten with him. If you ask me, I find it appalling”, another close source declared.
> 
> Our golden girl seems very into the game and almost as out of breath as the players themselves. What ever sparked the romance between these two lovebirds we have yet to find out. Some speak of the two of them coming together is nothing more than another attempt by Draco Malfoy to redeem his reputation after the war, not much unlike his work with his self started D.M Unity. We can’t help but wonder if there is a love triangle happening too booth, seeing as it was only a short month ago the blonde wizard was spotted with his arm tenderly wrapped around Astoria Greengrass, a socialite living in Paris. Does the man have a lover in every city? 
> 
> Another source reveals the two had secret affairs already during their time at Hogwarts, the school they both attended in their younger years. “The way they always bickered had me thinking there was more to it,” an old classmate shared with us.
> 
> For more news regarding this improbable of romances be sure to check out the weekly editions.
> 
> _We tried to reach Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy as well as Harry and Ginny Potter for comment._  
> 

And that was his Christmas ruined.

Fuck, fuckery, fuck. He’d lost her to a sick ferret with voyeurism tendencies. 

He buried his face in his hands, trying to remove any thought of Hermione in his bed, trying to erase the way he loved how her hair fawned out on the pillow, or the way her eyes glowed when she managed a particularly complicated charm. But she wasn’t that person anymore, he reminded himself. She hadn’t been since after the war. That sparkle in her eye had been replaced with something he didn’t recognize, and he’d tried to help her, he really had. It had been proven impossible to help someone who didn’t want to be helped. 

_Shit, he missed her._

___

The Malfoy manor looked huge, and the iron gates in front of Hermione had knots forming in her stomach. She breathed deeply and watched as mist formed in the air from her breathing, her cheeks and nose flushing pink from the cold. 

The gates opened with a creak, and the view in front of them was that of a Christmas card. The many trees and bushes were covered in fairy lights. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d ever step foot inside of those gates again- but there she was, gripping Draco’s hand so tight she thought his bones might break. In her other hand she held a bag, containing a bottle of a particularly hard to find wine that she’d tracked down in order to start off on the right foot with the lady of the Manor. Apparently Draco had gotten his fine taste in wine from his mother. The bag also held Draco’s Christmas gift, he was a terribly hard man to shop for since he seemed to have everything.

“See that tree over there?” Draco pointed at an apple tree, right by the gate they were walking through. “I used to climb up there and throw apples at father’s friends when they walked through. It was unnervingly satisfying,” he said and Hermione relaxed a little. Trying to envision Draco as child, tossing apples at Voldemort’s death eaters. 

“Ah, and how old were you then? Fifteen?” she teased trying not to show her dishevelled state. He nudged her shoulder and shook his head. Smiling widely. 

She expected her heart to stop beating any time now, but it didn’t. The snow covering the garden of Malfoy manor made it look less eerie, not like it had the last time she’d been there during the war. The Manor itself stood with pride, the garden stretched for acres. They walked so slow it might look like they were standing still, he didn’t rush her and she appreciated that. The snow creaked beneath their feet and snowflakes fell on her hair, turning to moisture as it melted. It was one of those white Christmases you always hoped for, but never got. 

“Right there, do you see it?” Draco asked and pointed to another tree. 

Hermione squinted slightly to try and focus her gaze. “A tree house?”

“Mother had it built, Me, Blaise and Theo used to kill hours up there.”

Hermione reflected on the fact it was Narcissa who had it built. Had his father ever done anything for him except for giving him a hard time? Lucius had quickly climbed to the top of her list of people she disliked, bumping a dead Voldemort to second place. 

It took her some time to figure out, but as they reached the front door she realised what he was doing. He was trying to make her see the Manor in a different light, as his childhood home rather than the dark place she considered it to be. She knew him well enough to know he never did anything without intent. It was sweet of him, she thought as they stopped by the front door. It swung open immediately. 

“Mr Draco sir, Miss Hermione.” The houself curled into a deep bow.

Draco greeted the house elf with a small smile. “Wobsey.”

“Mistress is to be right down Sir, she said to take you’re coats, you is to wait in the living room.” 

Draco thanked Wobsey and helped Hermione remove her coat like the gentleman he was raised to be. 

The opulence was unmistakeable. The walls were covered in gold frames, portraits of the previous residents of the Manor, the Malfoy bloodline. Hermione felt all their eyes on her as she walked, still gripping Draco’s hand like a vice. “Are all of these people your ancestors?” 

“Yes, don’t mind them,” he said and she realised she wasn’t imagining the angry glares she was receiving. She used a charm to muffle the echoing sounds of her heels clicking against the marble floor, it did nothing to stop the subtle mumbles from the portraits. She could swear she heard the word mudblood more than once, and she felt her scar starting to ache. 

_Phantom pain, it’s just phantom pain_ , she repeated in her head.

Hermione was sure the room was bigger than her entire apartment. Opposite of a large black sofa was a roaring hearth; she could feel the heat coming from the blazing ember as they sat down. Next to it stood one of the tallest Christmas trees she’d seen inside a home, decorated with ornaments that screamed wealth passed down through generations. It even had fairy glass hanging in it that cast sparkles that mirrored beautifully on the marble floor. It was magnificent.

Wobsy popped in and handed them each a flute of champagne. She thanked him and he looked up at her with big blue eyes. “Miss no need to thank, miss is guest,” he said and bowed again before leaving the room. She really wasn’t comfortable being served by a house elf. She tried to comfort herself with the thought of Wobsy receiving minimum wage, even though she was certain he probably wasn’t paid at all.

The big windows to her right gave for an incredible view of the garden outside, it truly was magical how the white glistening snow turned the entire world into something else entirely. 

“It’ll be alright,” Draco murmured and she was certain he said it as much to himself as he did her. “Did I tell you that you look amazing?” 

Hermione looked down at her dress; deep red, A-line shaped with a bateau neckline, cinched in at the waist. She’d braided her bangs out of the way, and put her hair up in a low bun. She was sure Christmas at the Manor entailed a dress code, unlike the Christmas at the Weasley’s. “Thank you, you do too.” He did look mesmerizing in his maroon suit. Draco did spoil her in that way, he never failed to make her heart throb with the many suits he owned.

__

Narcissa had spent the morning pacing around the Manor, burning every calorie she had consumed in the process. 

Today would be a first, the first time a _mudblood_ had been invited to the Manor in company of a Malfoy. She loved her son, but she was worried he was making all the wrong choices. The situation reminded her too much of the time her sister Andromeda had confessed to falling in love with a muggle-born.

The values she’d been raised with as a child was that of blood purity, superiority, and she had passed those values on to her son with pride, as had her husband. She was still of the belief magic should be practised by those who earned it, and for her entire life she had believed the only ones deserving were the ones who had pure blood running through their veins. 

She sipped the tea Wobsy had prepared for her, deep in thought. Thinking of all the ways she had failed to protect her son from the darkness of the war, and that it was her fault he’d lost his way to such an extent he would turn to a mudblood for comfort. She shook her head. When he’d told her about him and miss Granger she had to use every trick in her arsenal to not let her disappointment show. She’d since that talk summed the situation up to her son struggling after the war. 

Many nights her mind had been occupied with how it had happened. How could her son put their family through this? How could Draco think it wise to be associated with a muggle-born? Sure, she had heard the talk, Hermione Granger, the next Minister of Magic, brightest witch of her age. It only made it worse in her opinion. Her son was not one to stand in side-lines of anyone.

Maybe he could still mend things with that Astoria girl. She grimaced, she honestly had never liked Astoria Greengrass, but she was a better choice than miss Granger any day of the week.

Her son had always been ambitious, curious of the world, but as she’d seen him grow up she’d seen that spark in his eyes grow weaker and weaker. When the war approached and he took the dark mark she’d seen that spark disappear completely. 

She stirred her tea with a silver spoon, reading the article about her son and the mudblood she’d been sent. She worried about it for many reasons, first was Lucius’ fury when he read it, second was the fact her son openly went against everything their family stood for, it wouldn’t go unnoticed in her circles. She eyed the picture with contempt, finding herself in a dilemma; If she fought against this whim of his she might lose him all together, and if she didn’t she had to accept it and that she simply could not do.

She was born into the Black family, a family that’s prided themselves on blood purity for centuries, and her son was a blood traitor. The pounding in her head increased, she rubbed her temples with her fingers and wished for a different reality.

__

“Mother,” Draco said and stood from the sofa, giving her a kiss on each cheek. 

“Draco, dear, you look lovely,” Narcissa said warmly. 

“I know you’ve met before, but, under different circumstances,” he gestured towards Hermione who had come to stand beside him, suddenly incapable to think of a good way to introduce the two. 

“Miss Granger, it’s a pleasure to meet you again,” Narcissa said, and to Draco the shift in her voice was obvious, it was the tone she reserved for people she disliked, when she had to force politeness. He tensed, wondering how he ever thought this to be a good idea. 

Hermione shook her hand and greeted her politely, trying hard to not show how uncomfortable she was. “You’re home is lovely,” Hermione said; only lying a little. Nothing about the Manor felt like a home at all. She extended the bottle of wine, it felt more like a peace offering than anything else. Narcissa thanked her, and if she was not mistaking, her smile reached her eyes this time. 

The all sat down under the dim light of the sparkling chandelier above them, Draco and his mother talked about trivial things and Hermione spent the most time admiring and loathing the space they were in. Even though the crackling fire brought warmth, she still felt shivers running down her spine. The house felt cold even though it wasn’t. They talked for a while about the wine Hermione had gifted Narcissa, the blonde woman was curious to now how she had acquired it. 

Draco seemed to relax when the two of them were talking and Hermione admitted she’d been impressed by her son’s knowledge of wine when he’d ordered a bottle of Brunello on their first date. 

While Hermione spoke about her first date with her son, Narcissa’s eyes darted between the two of them. When she saw the way her son looked at her, she knew she’d been wrong. It wasn’t a whim; he had fallen deeply for this woman. When Hermione touched his arm absentmindedly, she detected a spark in his eyes, the spark she’d thought to be lost. Until today.

Narcissa suggested Draco take her on a tour of the Manor while she finished preparing their dinner. She needed time to revaluate and she did her best thinking when she cooked.

__

“So this is where you spent your days brooding when you weren’t being a git at Hogwarts,” Hermione mumbled while taking in Draco’s childhood room. It was large, the size of her living room, the colour of the walls a moss green, a darker version of his current bedroom. 

Draco huffed and rolled his eyes in reply as he stood by the closed door with his arms crossed. The room held more books than she’d expected, along with some wizarding trinkets, a desk a chair and a sofa. There was a big window overlooking the backyard, she could see a shed by the far end. A queen-sized bed with a canopy draped above it stood by the window, with mahogany bedside tables on either side. She could tell he was studying her reactions. 

“It’s a lot darker than your flat,” she pointed out, “if I ever did imagine Draco Malfoy’s room it would be something like this, maybe less books and more quidditch posters though, and supposedly some dark artefacts” she mocked and smiled at him. 

“Right, well, if I did own any dark artefacts, which, the Malfoy family obviously does, it certainly wouldn’t be placed in my bedroom,” he said and uncrossed his arms. 

“Is this the room we will be sleeping in tonight then?” she asked.

“Here, or any of the guest bedrooms, you can chose.” He made it sound like it was normal to have several rooms to choose from.

“Here’s fine,” she said with her eyes glued to his bed. It was strange being there, even stranger to imagine the boy who once occupied this very room, doing his homework by the desk, tossing his school robes on the floor or taking a nap on the sofa.

She ran her fingertips over the soft bed linen. 

“It’s weird to have you in here,” he admitted while frowning slightly, a smirk lurking on his features. 

“Yeah? It’s weird for me too.” 

There was something about being there that tempted her, maybe it was a twisted fantasy she never knew she had, but there was something about being in _his_ room that made her want him even more. Maybe it was the idea of what could’ve happened if their past had been different, or maybe it was the sight of his old school robe she’d glimpsed in his closet, taking her back to that Hallows eve night. 

She put one foot on the bed, sliding her dress up just enough to expose the lace hem of her stay ups, and the strap attached to the garter she was wearing underneath, pretending it needed adjustment. She could practically feel the burn of his stare on her thigh. 

Draco cleared his throat. “What exactly are you doing?” there was a hint of surprise in his voice; mixed with something else she’d come to recognize as lust. She didn’t look up, but she could hear him walking towards her. 

“Adjusting the strap,” she answered innocently, doing her best to sound indifferent while she grazed the exposed skin on her upper thigh with her fingertips. She was about to put her leg back down on the floor when she could feel him standing behind her. 

“Did you think it to be wise to wear such, _slutty_ lingerie to visit my family?” he whispered venomously against her neck while his hands slid under her dress. She did her best to stay composed. 

“Mm, well if I want the treatment for being one I have to dress the part, right?” That did it. 

_Oh he was predictable in some ways wasn’t he?_ So easy to seduce, she thought when he pressed himself close to her backside. 

“Well, you’ll just have to pretend you got the full tour of the manor when mother asks, because I intend to fuck you instead.” He kissed her pulse point, down to her collarbone and demanded she’d take her dress off. “You are good at pretending, but you’ll have to do better if you’re asked if you liked the library. See, I’m very sure your straps needed no adjustments at all.”

She never could hide what she wanted from him. The dress was off with one swift motion, Draco took a step back to enjoy the view. It never seized to make her uncomfortable when he did that. 

“Been shopping without me?” he asked and raised a brow, his eyes devouring her body, wile he removed his jacket, pants and rolled up the sleeves of his black button down. She wasn’t surprised he noticed that the emerald green balconette bra with matching underwear and garter were new. He always did take his time removing all the fabric form her body, giving himself a lot of time to, watch. 

“It’s new, yes,” she said, not able to stop her cheeks from blushing pink under his gaze. He told her to remove her knickers and get on the bed. She sat down on the edge of it, and he parted her legs with his. “I left my wand downstairs, do you have yours?”

“No, mine’s downstairs as well.” 

He parted her legs wider and she had to remind herself to breathe. “Then you will just have to be quiet then,” he said darkly “Any noise at all, and I’ll stop, got it?” He grabbed her chin, tilting her head back, so he could see into her eyes.

“But surely this house, Manor, is big enough, no one will hear anything.”

“Are you questioning me?” his tone held a very serious threat. She saw no trace in his eyes that reminded her of the man that said he loved her, no sign of his gentleman behaviour or compassion. There was only darkness, danger and possibly anger. That look alone was enough to make her squirm, make her beg, make her forget her name because it held promises of him doing to her exactly what she craved. She was so wet now she was sure it had dripped down on the bed linen she was seated on. “Have you lost your speech already, love?” 

“No.” He was still waiting for a proper answer, “I mean, no I’m not questioning you.” 

“Good,” he said short and grinned devilishly. In a matter of seconds he was on his knees, bending her knees over his shoulders, pulling her body forwards until his face was inches from her core. 

She moaned and he stopped instantly. “Do I have to gag you?”

Hermione propped herself up with her elbows and shook her head, although, she wasn’t _that_ opposed to the idea. 

She could feel his nose parting her slick folds, then his tongue moved from her arse up to her clit. She shuddered and fisted the covers, biting her lip to keep quiet. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck that felt good._

He slid his tongue inside of her and she shuddered. His tongue never stopped moving and she never could predict his next moves. Her body was melting on the mattress and she fought back moan after moan to the point of insanity. Even though she couldn’t moan in appreciation for his efforts, he was smug enough to know exactly what spots to hit to make her want to scream. 

He moved her further onto the bed, positioning himself on top. When he kissed her she could taste herself on his tongue. Her cunt throbbed with the loss of touch, his hand grasped her throat, and when his lips found hers again she couldn’t stop a moan from escaping her as he stretched her open with his cock. He pulled out of her completely, then thrust into her again harder, making her breath catch in her throat each time. He did that until he was finally able to bury himself fully inside of her. He kissed her again, this time most likely to muffle the sounds of his own pleasure. He got on his knees, placing her legs against his shoulders; wanting the full view of her body as he drove into her mercilessly. 

Repositioning herself, she made sure he was hitting against her G-spot, the feeling had her ready to explode. 

“Fuck,” she cried, it wasn’t loud, but he’d heard it. Still inside of her, he stopped moving and she imagined it had to take a lot of self-restraint, it looked to pain him greatly. 

He let her legs fall to either side of his hips as he leaned forward. It was hard to think when he was still inside of her; the smallest movement had her aching for friction. 

“I thought I told you to be quiet?” He eyed her with disappointment and it was incredible. 

“I will be, promise” He tilted his head to the side, like he was contemplating a numerical chart and not if he should give them both what they wanted. She rocked her hips to convince him of the latter. It worked and she whimpered when he started to move again. 

“Scchh”, he mumbled next to her ear as he placed one of his hands over her mouth. The loss of control and the way he took charge had her mind turn into a puddle, she was digging her nails into his back as lust consumed her body. 

_So close._

She wanted to tell him, she wanted to moan as the pleasure became to much to handle, but she was sure he could feel it by the way her cunt squeezed him hard. 

_Was there any view better than the one she had on top of her right now?_

His eyes were dark, with sparkles of icy grey, his hair mussed by the way she’d run her fingers through it. The broadness of his shoulders made her feel small, like he had the power to completely destroy her if he wanted to. He was looking into her eyes now, and she was certain they were silently pleading him to help her let go. 

“Turn around.” 

She did, she laid flat on her stomach when he entered her again, her legs only parted enough for him to squeeze inside of her. His body was pressed against hers, pushing her into the mattress. He probably could tell she was right on the edge by the way she was panting, even though he was doing all the work. He quickly covered her mouth again when she shuddered around him, her walls clamping down on his cock, urging him to let go too. 

She didn’t think she’d come that quietly in her entire adult life.

The feeling of him releasing himself inside of her was one she never wanted to forget, it was the one moment when they fucked she was certain he was just as lost as she was. A low growl escaped him when she milked him dry. 

He collapsed on top of her and she struggled to breathe, but she enjoyed the weight of his warm body on top of hers too much to complain.

She turned around so they were face to face, tracing her fingertips along the curve of his lips. The darkness in his eyes was gone, replaced with the grey, the glint she’d come to recognize as love. It was the same look she’d detected at the quidditch game that Friday afternoon, the look of innocence and something else then couldn’t place; until that very same night he’d told her he loved her too.

He took her hand into his and gave her a soft kiss, the sweet kind that assured her what they’d just shared was precious to him. 

“I believe the tour is done, we should get back,” he said and stood, reaching out his hand to drag her up with him. 

“I could use a wand right about now, to scourgify this,” she said gesturing to the their combined juices running down the inside of her thighs. 

Draco grinned mischievously. “Alright, I’ll go get our wands,” he said as he got dressed and exited the room with quick strides. 

When she was alone, she realised she had just been fucked in the room where Draco had lived the majority of his life, the room where he’d lay thinking about the world, the war, his teenage crushes, his heartaches and troubles. Her heart ached, because she wished she’d known him then, wished she could’ve given him the love she now knew his father depraved him of. It had never occurred to her back then, that maybe he never really had a choice when he was young, born into his faith and part in the war. 

__

The table was big enough to fit ten people, and the food that filled it was enough for ten people as well. Everything smelled amazing, and Hermione was almost sure Narcissa had a suspicion they hadn’t actually toured the manor at all, but there was no way she knew exactly why that was, fortunately.

They talked about work, mostly Draco’s, Hermione didn’t think it to be a good idea to bring up anything of her reform, even though Narcissa already must know about it.

Narcissa shared some stories about how D.M Unity got started. Hermione was intrigued to hear she had lent a helping hand in the process, Draco had never mentioned that.

She asked if Draco had gotten his love of cooking from her, after complementing the food, to which Narcissa nodded her head and explained they used to cook together when he was younger. Hermione sensed pride in her voice. Maybe, just maybe, the love they both felt for Draco could be enough for them to bond.

They all stood abruptly when the flames of the roaring fire in the dining room turned from orange to green. Hermione gripped her wand promptly. 

“Lucius,” Narcissa said as the man with long white hair became visible. 

Hermione knew it before it happened, she could see the fury in his eyes, the eyes that looked too much like the ones she loved. The magazine in his hands was evidence as to why he had come. The hex was directed at her and she thanked Merlin for the quick reflexes she’d learned from the war, deflecting the hex so it crashed into the crystal vase on the table instead. It broke with a loud crack and just as she was gearing up to duel, she felt a strong arm pushing past her, covering her body with his. 

“Draco don’t,” was all she managed, still in combat position, ready to cast and deflect whatever else he might fire. 

“Move!” Lucius yelled to Draco, his voice echoing across the walls. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Draco yelled back, he sounded as startled as she was. 

Lucius’ wand was now pointed at Draco, he sneered. “Didn’t think I’d find out you were disgracing our family name with your little mudblood crush? And to think I could’ve had a pure blood grandchild by now.” He laughed darkly, flicking his hair to his back.

Hermione felt her body freeze, grandchild? Hermione stepped out from behind Draco. She looked up at him and Draco’s eyes met hers for a brief second, and that’s when she knew there was something he hadn’t told her. Lucius seized the moment of weakness and hit his own son with a leg locking curse. The next one was directed at her, she ducked down to avoid it.

“Expelliarmus!” She caught Lucius wand in her hand. She’d always been good with that spell. Narcissa was quick to use a counter spell to unlock Draco’s legs, but she didn’t say anything to discourage her husband.

“You didn’t tell her?” Lucius drawled and eyed his son through narrowed slits. He was pacing now, like a snake trying to decide from what angle to attack. “Oh well, you see miss Granger, before this,” he waved his hands towards them, “obscene infatuation with the likes of you, Draco and miss Greengrass were expecting.” Hermione could feel her heart beating so fast, the pulse was drumming in her ears, and it had nothing to do with the number of insults to her blood status. 

She looked at Draco. “She was pregnant?”. The air felt thick and she had to fight to keep breathing. Draco mumbled series of profanities to his father that only seemed to make Lucius more contented. When he eventually turned to Hermione her brain had already made up a hundred different scenarios, none of them good. 

“She was, and I didn’t find out about it until after she had an abortion,” he confessed. Narcissa gasped, Hermione had forgotten she was even there. 

She tried to piece together a timeline and failed miserably. 

“An abortion? Why?” Her voice failed her too, she sounded wounded. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, it wasn’t because of you, no,“ he spoke as if he had the inside scope of the juiciest of gossip, “from what I hear, she couldn’t think of anything worse than having a child with a traitor to the cause,” he eyed his son coldly, “I suppose I can’t blame her.”

Astoria had an abortion because Draco didn’t believe in a pureblood society anymore? She caught Draco’s eyes and she knew, everything Lucius was saying was true. She could tell by the pain in his eyes and the way the corner of his lips twitched. 

It dawned on her he’d been going trough it alone, the abortion hadn’t been his choice, yet Lucius was speaking of it like he’d had one.

The man was vile. She could feel her magic crackling at he fingertips, the magic the man before her didn’t think her worthy of.

“Stupefy!” The spell hit him right in his chest and he fell to the floor with a loud thump. She tossed his wand in his direction and reached for Draco’s hand, glaring at the man on the floor, fighting the urge to kick his head in.

He looked at his mother, exchanging words without actually speaking, in a way only a mother and son could. 

Draco only knew needed to speak to Hermione alone, to sort out the whole Astoria business he should’ve told her about long ago. Waiting for his father to come to it would not do anyone good, he might even do something he’d regret if his father were to speak ill about Hermione again, like avada him or something. 

He had a hunch his mother had started to warm up to the idea of him and Hermione. Had his father not interrupted them so rudely maybe tonight would have ended differently, in a direction he was hoping for. 

He shouldn’t have brought Hermione here. She deserved the god damn world and his father talked to her like she was dirt under his shoes. He took a calming breath, they needed to leave now or he’d commit patricide. He accio’d Hermione’s bag that held the gifts they were supposed to exchange, and walked with her by his side until they reached the gates. He gripped her hand tight, as to convey how sorry he was. 

They walked fast, in silence, and when they finally were outside of the gates, able to disapparate he thought at least now Christmas morning would be theirs alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, the flashback chapter is up!! You can find it in my profile.
> 
> Second of all, I'm incredibly sorry for this very late update. Christmas celebrations got in the way and my computer was forgotten in the stress of it all. Thank you all for your patience. 
> 
> I imagine about two more chapters and one epilogue before this story reaches it's end. I know I said there were only three left a few chapters ago and I do apologise for any confusion, I just want to make the story justice by not rushing it too much. 
> 
> Again, thanks for all the love, and feel free to leave any thoughts you have, good or bad. Your comments always put a smile on my face. 
> 
> Lots of love.


	17. Break me, why don't you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione arrive back at his flat after Lucius appearance at Malfoy manor. Draco wants to explain the situation Lucius referenced to, Astoria's abortion, and Hermione is unsure if she even wants to know. She's feeling jealous and Draco is showing a side of himself she's never truly seen before.
> 
> Mostly fluff in this one.

“I can’t,” Hermione said, exasperated. They were standing in the hallway of Draco’s flat. 

The second the door had closed behind them he’d noticed the usual warmth she exuded was gone, her eyes looked blank, cold. Was this the end of it? Had his selfishness in not telling her been the breaking point for her, or was it the ugliness in the words that his callous father had shouted? 

He felt his legs weakening and he struggled to keep standing, leaning against the wall for support, he had to check to see he was still breathing because he felt dead inside. 

_Can’t be with him anymore?_ Was there even oxygen available for him to breathe?

He couldn’t blame her, why would she want to? In a way he had forced her there, made her revisit the place of her torture, only for her to leave with yet another memory to plague her, to hurt her. 

She walked closer to him, he straightened his back, pushing back whatever it was he was feeling.

“I’m sorry,” she said and her soft fingertips met the skin on his cheeks. 

“You can’t touch me like that, not when you’re telling me you can’t with this, with us.” Even his voice sounded broken and he couldn’t bring himself to meet her brown eyes, because no matter how hard she’d try to hide it he would see the truth in them. 

___

Hermione didn’t know what to think or how to feel, the anger was bubbling just below the surface, the rest of her felt indifferent. Her thoughts were scattered, she thought of how stupid she had been to put herself in this situation. She had reconciled with the fact others would always see her as unworthy of magic, that to certain people she’d never be more than a _mudblood_. Even so, she was incapable of denying how angry and hurt it made her to have Lucius continuously declaring those thoughts. In some ways it had been easier when she was able loathe the Malfoy name and everyone belonging to it.

Lucius was vile, and yet that wasn’t the sole reason for her desolation. Draco could’ve been a father, and it wouldn’t have been her child. The thought alone made her stomach turn.

“I can’t,” she said, because she wasn’t sure she could have this conversation with him. Did she even want to know what it was that happened between him and Astoria? Was it even within her rights to know? 

She figured Draco might be upset she’d stupefied his father but when she looked at him she saw no anger, he looked hurt and she couldn’t fathom why.

Her mind raced with options, she barely registered that he’d said something. All she could see was the pain that caused his body to lean for support against the wall. Was it his father that had him look like this? That had to be it. Or maybe what his father had said had brought back whatever pain Astoria had caused him by doing what she did. 

It wasn’t the words Lucius had said themselves; it was the meaning behind them. Draco had been called out for being a blood traitor, for denying his family a pure blood heir, disgracing the Malfoy name by being with a mudblood. By being with _her_. 

She couldn’t hinder the thought, was it all worth it to him, was _she_ worth it? She didn’t allow that thought to linger, she brushed it away because it was too damn hard to even consider.

When she touched his cheek to comfort him, she finally registered what he’d said. _‘if you can’t with this, with us anymore’_. She cradled his face between her hands, standing on her toes to reach properly. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. They stayed quiet for while, his grey eyes finally meeting hers, searching for answers unspoken.

He then repeated what she had said and she realised how it might have come off to him.

She took deep breaths, something she’d learned as a child, was the best way to gather ones thoughts. “I didn’t mean I can’t with us, I meant I don’t know if I can handle this right now.” She waved her hands in resignation, staring at the portrait in the frame behind him instead of directly at him as she continued to explain, “it’s your family. I can’t with them, with how they treat you, or me, and I won’t apologise for stupefying your father even though he was wandless at the time.” She said on one breath.

Her emotions were everywhere and she was unsure how to handle the situation. He’d really thought she’d leave him? Did he not understand how he was all she ever could think about these days.

“Well shit woman, finish your damn sentences then. You just about broke me.” He confessed and when he didn’t meet her eyes she knew the last part was a show of vulnerability he hadn’t meant for. She imagined she’d feel just the same if the roles were reversed.

Draco hugged her tightly, his forehead resting against her shoulder. Her fingers tangled in his soft hair as she breathed in the familiar scent that was entirely his. They stood like that for a while. Lucius words still remained in the air and she decided she needed to _know_. She needed to hear it from him.

When he broke apart from her he told her he shouldn’t have made her come to the Manor. He said it with such remorse she was sure it was meant as an apology even though the actual words of _‘I’m sorry’_ were never spoken.

Hermione knew she shouldn’t have agreed to spend Christmas at Malfoy manor. She’d decided she wouldn’t go, but after the dinner with the Potter’s, when he’d told her he loved her too, she felt it necessary to establish some sort of relationship with his mother, to return what he’d given her by enduring a dinner with her friends. 

When Draco seemed to have composed himself, she let her own selfishness show, asking a question that maybe wasn’t her place to ask – but she felt it vital to know. She pictured Lucius smug face when he realised he had something to hold over her head, something to hurt her with without the use of a wand. The words escaped her lips, her voice calmer than she felt. “Tell me,” she said. “What happened with Astoria?”

The way she said Astoria’s name reminded her of how Ginny used to say Draco’s, like she was the worst person to walk the earth. And to Hermione, right that second, she was. She hated her for the fact it had been Astoria’s choice that had shaped their present. Had she made another one Draco would not be here with her. If Astoria had chosen another path, she was certain Draco would’ve grasped the opportunity, to raise their child. She’d seen it when she looked at him as Lucius spoke.

Maybe that’s what hurt the most. 

She was jealous and she couldn’t stop it from unfolding.

“I found out a few weeks after our weekend at Hogwarts. Don’t really know the details of it all myself, She didn’t tell me much,” Draco said, his voice low. She stayed quiet, holding back her thousands of questions. 

Draco began walking back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back, not much unlike how Lucius had been pacing just over and hour ago. Explaining how he’d been upset to find out she’d had an abortion without telling him beforehand. That he thought the reason for it was her embarrassment of being associated with someone she considered a traitor to the cause.

Hermione let his words sink in. She tried to put herself in his position, it was difficult, the topic of abortion in it’s essence was never easy, and could be perceived severely different depending on gender.

“That wasn’t fair of her.” Even to her the answer seemed lacking, brittle.

“I’ve come to terms with it I think. I was upset, threw her out of my flat, didn’t handle it well,” he mumbled on.

“You threw her out? Have you talked to her since?” she needed to know for personal reasons. 

“No. I drank too much, watched that stupid film about that ship, and wrote you a howler.” He was still pacing, looking down at his moving feet.

So that was when he’d written it. It made more sense now. She asked him why, her eyes following him as he continued to walk back and forth. 

Draco sighed, his shoulder’s slumping in resignation to the situation. “We,” he paused, “ you and I, didn’t exactly leave things clear did we? I didn’t even know if I’d see you again. Upon receiving a letter from Blaise, I was upset you seemed to have moved on, and I definitely had not. I wanted to tell you that I wanted, well, _you_ , how I went about it really wasn’t my proudest moment.”

He itched his jaw, deep in thought. “I was afraid maybe you felt like she did, different, but the same foundation for not wanting to see me, maybe you didn’t want anything to do with me, because I was, well, because _I am me_.”

Any jealousy that was still present she shoved to the back of her mind, and she realised he’d been hurting for a while. Even though it was hard hearing him talk about a potential want for a future without her in it, she felt her heart swell to fit his pain. 

“I can only imagine how you must’ve felt, I’m sorry that happened to you” she said, placing a hand over his heart. “but I can’t deny I’m happy you sent me that stupid thing, because now you’re mine, and it’s the best feeling in the world.” She said it in all seriousness, for once not caring of how brutally honest she was being.

He gave her a coy smile, a smile that told her he felt the same way. “Considering the two of us, things have a way of unfolding in the strangest ways,” he said, looking at her so intensely she thought she might shatter. She pulled him closer, wanting the safety of his arms wrapped around her.

The entire evening had been draining; it felt like she had been strapped to a never-ending rollercoaster. When they finally crawled under the comforting covers of the bed, all she wanted was to hold onto him until the world fell away. Just like she felt privileged whenever she saw him with his hair out of place, she felt just as privileged to be the one he could depend on, to be vulnerable with. 

__

The smell of cinnamon led Hermione out to the kitchen. She cocked her head and watched in awe as Draco rummaged around in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of black slacks and no shirt. Their conversations last night still remained in her mind, and she kept telling herself all morning before getting out of bed to not be hung up on the past. So what if Astoria’s decision had led to this outcome? The fallout of it worked in her favour. She reluctantly acknowledged her need to stop overthinking. Sometimes things just worked how they worked.

Draco had stirred a lot during the night, and she was sure he’d gotten next to no sleep at all after Lucius dinner crashing and their conversations last night. The half full coffee pot indicated he’d downed the other half before she woke.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he said and turned towards her when he realised he was being watched. She was reminded then it was in fact Christmas morning and she was adamant to let yesterday’s fury stay buried, so she smiled. She’d read it releases endorphins.

“Merry Christmas, honey,” Hermione said. Deciding today would be theirs. 

“ _Honey?_ ” Draco grimaced and returned to cooking. 

She jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter, stealing a grape from the fruit platter. “You always call me love, and I don’t usually call you anything but Draco.” She shrugged her shoulders. 

“Don’t think honey is it.” He scrunched his nose.

“What about dream boat?” She quirked an eyebrow while watching the muscles on his back. 

Draco chuckled, but his tone was serious. “Don’t you ever call me that.”

She jumped off the counter and smacked his bottom, an attempt to lighten the mood. Draco spun around immediately. “Stud muffin?” She grinned.

He looked at her like he was contemplating if she’d lost her brain. “Very funny,” he wasn’t laughing. “If I assure you I’m more than fine with Draco, will you stop coming up with other stupid things to call me?”

Hermione smiled mischievously and Draco sighed in resignation. “You’re going to call me something anyways, right?”

“ _Maybe_.” She placed a kiss on his bare shoulder. “My sexy stud muffin.” She winked.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Is this retaliation for my mistaken conclusion last night?” 

“No,” she tried her best to look crossed, “can’t a girl want to have a cute nickname for her lover? Her eyes widened. “Ooh, lover boy, that’s a good one!”

Draco shook his head like he couldn’t be more disappointed in her, before turning around and continuing making the largest breakfast ever made for two people. 

“Get off it, you are not calling me any of those dreadful things.”

“And if I don’t?”

That seemed to take his attention away from the frying pan. “I would have to punish you.” He smiled at her wickedly. 

“Hmm,” she frowned like she was pondering the idea even though it was precisely what she’d been aiming for, “I’m okay with that.”

“What, no nickname now?” It was his turn to feel crossed.

“I’ll save it,” she said and he shook his head again. “Until after you’ve used legilimency on me,” she continued like it was nothing. She’d given it a lot of thought and then come to the conclusion she had no reason not trust him with that. After last night it felt like they’d overcome yet another hurdle, and she felt them both deserving of some wicked fun.

“A merry Christmas to me indeed,” he said and snaked his arms around her waist.

“I swear you’ll be the death of me.” She meant it in full, not sure of how much more emotions could fit inside of her. Draco replied by kissing her with such passion she could feel tingles in her toes. 

_A girl could get used to this._  
__

“You were up early today,” Hermione said as they sat down to eat the breakfast Draco must have spent over an hour cooking. The pancakes were fluffy and melted in her mouth.

“Couldn’t sleep, went for a run,” he mumbled while pouring an obscene amount of maple syrup onto his pancakes.

Hermione sipped her tea and asked when they should exchange gifts. When she’d purchased it she’d been fairly confident he’d like it, but now, as she sat watching him she was unsure. She knew he was a bit materialistic, all of his clothing was of the finest fabrics and his flat alone was probably worth more than what she had in her vault at Gringotts. It was tremendously hard to find a something for someone who already had everything. 

She bit her bottom lip. “Should we do it here?” she asked.

“Sure, I’m not opposed to christen the dinner table.” He smirked and leaned back on the chair. 

She rolled her eyes. “The gifts, stupid.”

Draco chuckled and patted on his lap. She went over to him, not sure why her heart was beating fast, or why she was so nervous he wouldn’t like it. “Alright, so if you don’t like it I’m sure it can be exchanged-“

“I’ll like it,” he interrupted. 

She waved her wand and accioed the gift. A gold envelope fell into her hands. “So its-“

“Stop just give it to me,” he said impatiently, sensing her apprehension. 

“Fine.” Hermione pursed her lips together, and not so much gave, but shoved, the envelope into his hand, well aware she was acting ridiculous, but there was a part of her that needed him to love it, maybe it was her need for control, or perhaps it was because of yesterday. 

_You are putting way too much meaning behind a single Christmas gift, you’re being stupid_ , she thought as she watched Draco open the envelope. 

__

Christmas gifts rarely excited Draco, but he did his best to act as though he was, ignoring the tiny inclination, the voice in the back of his head whispering he was a liar, because he was indeed curious to know what she had gotten for him. He ripped the last part of the envelope.

“You got me tickets to see the Falmouth Falcons against Chudley Cannons?” He hadn’t given much thought to what she might get him, never had it crossed his mind it could be quidditch related. The fact that she hated quidditch made it all the more special, it was a selfless gift, and it didn’t feel hollow at all.

It didn’t surpass him that Hermione was studying him closely. He hated this part of gifts opening, he wasn’t good at showing emotion - and he felt he’d shown too much of it last night. When opening a gift from someone the expectation of the gift opener was imperative. Feeling rather uncomfortable, he cleared his throat, stalling, thinking of words that would express his feelings. 

“Thank you.” He cringed inwardly at his own privation of words.

Her response was a smile worthy of golden sunshine, a palpable contrast to the snow that whirled outside. Draco pulled her closer, tucked a curl behind her ear, a show of affection that had once seemed foreign to him.

It wasn’t that it was hard to find something to give Hermione, he’d given it more thought than he ever had when gifting something before. Usually his ability to purchase gifts was a gift card with an immodest sum. He’d never gotten anyone he’d been with anything else, not even jewellery because it always appeared too personal. He watched her warily as she opened it, disguising his own insecurities about the whole ordeal by smirking slightly. 

“Plane tickets?” Hermione said as she looked at the tickets in her lap. 

“Figured some time off work would be nice,” he said and shrugged his shoulders, as if it hadn’t been a complete pain to buy those tickets. He’d never travelled by plane before, wizards rarely do. The entire process had been repugnant; he’d even had to get himself a muggle passport, he fought back a grimace from revealing the truth, but he couldn’t stop from caressing her hand with his thumb, maybe that gave him away. 

Draco listened half-heartedly when Hermione began explaining to him how exactly airplanes worked, only catching a few of the words, such as the importance of the shape of the wings and that it needed four forces to stay in the sky. To Draco it sounded like too much engineering when one could simply use a portkey instead. But the earnest way she explained it all had him feeling the ordeal was, and would, be worth it. He was especially looking forward to Hermione in a bathing suit on the beach in the Maldives.  


He had a hard time deciding which he was more elated for, the quidditch tickets, spending time with her in the sunshine, or Hermione accepting his proposal to use legilimency. He smiled and watched as she moved on to describing the mundane experience of airport security and if maybe they’d have to explain their wands. He laughed inwardly, thinking of how her brain always seemed to be finding problems and figuring out solutions all at once. 

He did admire that about her. Her brain was an enigma and he couldn’t wait to dive into it.  
__

Hermione glanced up from her book at Draco several times. They were seated on the divan part of the sofa; it was broad enough to fit them both. She leaned against the armrest with her legs resting on top of his thighs. If he noticed her glances he didn’t show it, his eyes moved rapidly over the pages of the book in his hands. Draco had said next to nothing after probing around in her mind, uncovering all her secret desires with legilimency. He’d cleared his throat, deep in thought, raked his fingers through his blonde locks and whispered, _’Who knew Hermione Granger’s mind was filled with so much filth.’_ She’d felt the warmth from his mouth as he whispered close to her ear, and then, he’d mentioned nothing of it. A part of her wanted to ask, straight out, and another part of her knew it would ruin the fun. 

But even so, her curiosity and excitement made it hard for her to focus on her newly acquired book on ancient runes in front of her. It was rare for her to have time to read for fun, to read books not related to her work. Usually she enjoyed such opportunities immensely, but at the moment she was restless, trying to figure out what exactly he could’ve found in her mind. She’d heard legilimency could leave you with a headache but it had’t. Draco explained beforehand he had spent months practicing it; therefore he could preform it to perfection.

She’d read that it could feel like sharp razor blades when having it used on oneself by someone who wasn’t gentle or properly trained. A wash of relief enveloped her when he’d entered her mind and it had felt like a soft feather brushing through her mind. It had felt strange, surely, but not uncomfortable. She’d tried her best to follow as he uncovered her fantasies, but he worked incredibly fast and she had a hard time keeping up. Therefore she was now convinced he’d seen a lot more beyond what she’d been able to register.

She lowered the book in her hands. Studying his side profile, the sharpness of his jawline, the straight nose, the faintest of wrinkle that formed just at the beginning of his left eyebrow. 

His lips curved into his usual smirk. Indisputably amused by the attention. 

“I thought you’d gotten over the whole staring thing,” he said smugly, still with eyes glued to the yellowing pages. 

“You thought wrong then,” she said matter-of-factly. 

When Hermione suggested they’d go to the Christmas market in Diagon Alley Draco thought it to be a good idea. He’d had to distract himself properly with one of his books about Russian wizarding warfare, not the most enticing read, but good enough to keep him from losing his shit over what he’d seen. He’d always been aware her kinks were extraordinary, but she had been holding back on a few things. Now that he knew just exactly _how_ much she craved to be used, he’d found himself with not one, but three erections and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. The images kept flooding his mind, and he re-read the same sentences too many times to count. 

The things she wanted him to do to her, _fuck_ , it was beautiful.

He could fuck her right now, all it would take was a few words describing the inebriating discoveries in her mind, but, he couldn’t well punish her until she’d done something to deserve it. So, he waited, albeit impatiently but still. Biding his time and coming up with plans were fun as well, even though it was straining on his body to be in such a constant state of arousal.

Hermione pulled him off the sofa, and the feeling of her hand in his had him imagining hers around another part of his body. He tried to think of other things, like Blais’s mothers bad cooking to keep from a fourth erection. Draco quickly donned his coat and dragonhide gloves, catching a glimpse of the three opened letters on the coffee table, making a mental note to write Theo back that evening. The twat had been pestering him about that pub-crawl Blaise had suggested a while back. 

__

The streets of Diagon Alley were filled with people in joyous Christmas spirit, it was easy to get swept away in it. There were stands on either side of the street and people moved without rush. The snow was still coming down, making for icy and slippery cobblestones. So far it was a good distraction. He brushed off some snowflakes that had landed on his hair, only slightly bothered by how it destroyed the work he’d done on it this morning. He chose to ignore the not so subtle stares from people, fully aware it was starting to annoy Hermione, he saw her glaring at them left and right and he remembered a time when he used to be at the recipient end of those. He squeezed her hand as to calm her and pondered when they’d mastered the skill of silent communication. When her brown eyes looked up at him he could see them soften, perhaps his did too whenever her gaze caught his. 

“It doesn’t bother you?” Hermione said, a frown lurking at her features. 

He nudged her with his shoulder. “Nah, they’re just staring because we look so good.” 

“You’re impossible.”

Hermione breathed in the cold air and fidgeted with her hand inside her pocket, looking for the familiar feel of the cigarette pack in there. Her fingertips grazed the plastic wrapping around it, feeling comfort just knowing they were there. Pondering how Draco could be so calm at times and extremely dramatic at others. It was the kind of calmness and control he exuded anytime they were physical as well, or when she was the one glaring at him. Perhaps he’d mastered the skill only to annoy her. 

Yes, that was probably it. 

They stopped at a hot beverage stand. It was so cold outside her eyelashes were turning white with frost. The line was a short one and she wrapped her hands around the cup immediately, not caring it was burning her fingers. She’d already cast two warming charms on herself, but the cold still made it’s way beneath her winter coat. The coffee helped heat her up from the inside out, and as she was in the process of yet again burning her tongue a familiar voice shouted at them. They both spun around to find a tall, gangly and poised man walking towards them, a smile plastered on his face.

He stretched his arms out as to express his surprise at seeing them. “Look who’s out of their cave, the death eater and golden girl,” he shouted, earning looks from all around, referencing to the infamous article in Witches Weekly. 

“Theo,” Draco said in a tone of surprise, not minding the insults the slightest. Hermione on the other hand did not take well to the extra attention from the people around them. 

Could he stop being so _loud?_

“You just gonna ignore me huh? How about picking up a quill now and then to let your friends now you’re still walking around with your nose in the air.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “If you wanted love letters everyday I’m not the right one for the job.”

Theo scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Oi, love letters no, but a sign that you’re still breathing would be nice. However, plans have changed, since your lack of reply Blaise and I decided we’d turn the pub-crawl into a new years eve thing. You two in?” He pointed at Draco then Hermione. 

She wasn’t at a complete loss as to what Theo was going on about, she’d seen the occasional letter dropping in with his big tufted eagle owl. She shot him a smile. He was wearing a thick knitted beanie too big for his head, his cheeks were flushed from the cold, but he didn’t look to be freezing in that massive brown coat he was wearing. 

“We’re in,” she paused, shifting her gaze to Draco, “aren’t we stud muffin?” Her tone was casual, as if she called him that on the daily. He did not look happy with her at all. Theo burst out laughing, the kind of laugh that had your stomach muscles working overtime. 

“I’m sorry,” he held up a hand like a stop sign. Still laughing loudly. “What did you call him?”

“Stud muffin,” Hermione repeated, shrugging her shoulders like it was no big deal. Draco clenched his jaw so hard Hermione wondered if his teeth might shatter. Theo’s laugh grew impossibly louder and Hermione did her best work of staying composed whilst dying of laughter on the inside. 

Draco cleared his throat. “We’ll see you on new years, we’re are we meeting?”

The long gangly man straightened his back, finally gathering himself, his hands still placed on his stomach. “Pre-drinks at Blaise’s new place, he insisted. Probably wants to brag about his overpriced new penthouse, time is to be determined.” His eyes shifted to Hermione “Invite whoever, the more the merrier.”

“I might take you up on that offer,” she said and smiled, already trying to come up with a way to convince Ginny, Harry and Parvati to join them. 

Theo looked at them both, shook his head while smiling widely. Probably still elated with his new knowledge of Hermione’s nickname for Draco “I gotta be off, you, two have a good time now, see you on new years,” he said, hesitating a little before finishing off with, “Stud muffin.” He grinned towards his childhood friend before sauntering towards a restaurant. 

Draco turned towards her, his face hard as marble, fists clenched. “That’s the moment you picked?” He was clearly referencing to this mornings events, sounding less than thrilled by her choice of words and timing. Hermione smiled cheekily in reply, filled with anticipation for the punishment promised in the stormy greys. 

Without another word he grabbed her wrist and disapparated them both to his flat. Hermione wondered if he was really angry or simply seized the opportunity he’d been offered this morning, all whilst trying to figure out what fantasy he was going to make reality.

As they entered his flat, there was one thing she was sure of, she was in for something riveting, something that would have her body aching deliciously for days to come. He pulled her top over her head and pushed her against the wall. The anticipation of what he had planned for her was almost too overwhelming. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might escape her chest. His hand grabbed her throat. 

“Did you know, when I squeeze your throat like this when I’m inside of you, I can feel your cunt clench.” His eyes never left hers, he didn’t let go of her throat until she was desperate for air. When he unbuckled his belt all she could think was how lucky she was to be his. “This is what you wanted right?” He said while she gasped for breath. “I remember distinctively telling you what would happen if you called me that one more time. And now, here we are. Still remember your safeword?” 

Still recovering from being choked, she nodded in reply.

“Good. Remove your clothes and get on your knees.” His tone was hard, his eyes like the darkest of nights. “Now it’s my time to break you.” 

_Yes sir._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can not distress enough how sorry I am for this way overdue update. Lately work has been insane, and time got away from me. I do apologise and hope you find it worth the wait!
> 
> Please note the next chapter will be the last one, then there will be an epilogue were time is fast tracked so we get revisit the two a few years from where the story ends.
> 
> As always feel free to leave any thoughts you have!! So far writing this story has brought me so much joy, and most of it comes from all the lovely comments on here, so thank you all for that!
> 
> Lots of love.


	18. Never-ending fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is ready for her punishment, excited and a little unnerved when she realises Draco is certainly not holding back. 
> 
> Six days later her bruises are mostly faded, and they are getting ready for a New Year’s even celebration with their friends. Hermione is not to ecstatic to find a certain ex will be joining them.
> 
> First part of this chapter is pure filth, a little bit more violent than previous smut in this story so be aware and mind the tags.
> 
> It's the last chapter, and I know it's a long one, but I felt it needed to be. Sorry for the inconsistency in word count.

Hermione looked up at Draco from her position on the floor. She was naked and on her knees, just like he’d instructed. He’d tied her hands together behind her back so tight it was already uncomfortable. She licked her lips when he pulled his zipper down. The fabric covering his erection was removed. She very much enjoyed her marvellous view. However, she had a hunch he wouldn’t allow her to play freely. This was supposed to be her punishment after all. He tilted her chin up and looked her straight into the eyes.

To Draco there was nothing better than having Hermione, with hands tied and on her knees for him. Completely at his mercy. 

“You know,” he shook his head in disappointment, “because of what you did, I’m never going to hear the end of this.” He sighed. “ _Stud muffin_ – is a nickname for someone who is soft, gentle,” his eyes were blank, cold, “I am neither of those things,” he said with emphasis on each word while parting her knees with his foot. His stare was so intense it was hard for her to keep eye contact. She could practically _feel_ the anger and dismay erupting from within him with each word he spoke. 

Her entire body tensed.

_Fuck, she was in trouble now._

He moved her hair to her back. “Ah, so pretty, but there is something wrong with this view,” he smiled darkly, “you look so, _clean_.”

Her heart was now in her throat, and she was certain if he looked, he’d see it thrumming beneath the skin. “But you won’t be when I’m through with you.” He sneered, tilting his head to the side just slightly, as if he could envision it already. 

She was almost speechless when he slapped her with his cock. “Do you like that? To be treated like the whore you are?” 

“Yes.” It sounded weak even to her, but at least she was telling the truth, playing it safe. There would be no use in risking additional punishments. 

“Mm. Good. I’m going to fuck your mouth now and when I come on your face I want you to thank me.” He watched her reaction closely, detecting defiance in her eyes. _Oh how he wished she’d try._

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_ She wanted two things in that moment, to tell him to go fuck himself, and to taste his cock with her tongue. He was watching her, and maybe he saw her hesitation because his eyes glistened with danger. She could feel her cunt throb and her mind filling with the desire to please.

His thumb traced over her bottom lip, while the rest of his fingers tilted her chin up. 

“Open.”

She parted her lips. 

The skin of his cock felt velvety smooth against her lips. She swirled her tongue around the head of it before taking it into her mouth. With her hands tied behind her back it was the only thing she could do. She bobbed her head and listened to the grunts of pleasure erupting from within him, sharpening her ears to memorise what he liked the most. He twirled her hair around his hand to still her head, and then there was nothing more she could do, because he was fucking her mouth.

Undisputable, he’d seen this particular fantasy in the crevasses of her mind. She gagged and her eyes started to water. Indecent sounds derived from the back of her throat. 

When he finally pulled out she gasped for air and fell forward, she was lucky his legs where there, otherwise she’d be face down on the floor.

She braved a glance up at him and saw a condescending smile playing at his lips. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you not enjoying your punishment?” He was definitely mocking her. The laugh that followed had her entire body on edge; he was just getting started. 

“Look at me,” he said, the voice demanding and cold. She struggled to straighten her back. Draco observed her eyes were already filled with water her enlarged pupils silently begged him for more. His gaze shifted to her lips, and there he saw the slightest of smiles lurking, telling him she loved the degradation of the act. Draco gave her a few seconds to catch her breath, when his cock touched her lips again, she opened her mouth like the good slut he knew she was. He could feel her jaw relaxing, allowing him to go deeper down her throat. 

It wasn’t just how good her throat felt around his cock that had him ready to explode, it was the way she looked at him, the way she gagged and fought for breath when trying to please him. He kept fucking her throat, going faster, relishing in the sounds of her struggles. When he felt himself right on the edge of satisfaction, he pulled out, stroked himself to completion with a low growl. Merlin, he’d been fantasising of coming on her face about a thousand times. He watched as his cum covered her, as it dripped down her chin.

“Thank you,” she said obediently.

She’d never looked prettier to him than in that moment. “Fuck, you look incredible,” he said, unable to stop the praise she deserved to hear. Without him having to demand it, she licked his cock clean. He hummed appreciatively, his body relaxing as he came back down. 

He tugged his drawers and trousers back into place and hunched down. She clung to him immediately when he untied her wrists. “You did good,” he said, his voice lacking of his usual softness because he was not done with her yet. 

When Draco didn’t conjure a towel, she didn’t know what to do. 

Was he going to leave the cum on her face? It was humiliating for obvious reasons, not to mention uncomfortable.

Draco saw her eyes widen when he pulled the belt out of the holster of his trousers. “And because you did so well, I think only seven is necessary.”

Her eyes darted between the belt in his hands and his eyes. “You’re going to –“ her voice trailed off and she swallowed. 

“Spank you with this?” he quirked an eyebrow, finishing her question for her. “Yes. Do you trust me?” She bit her bottom lip before nodding. 

“I need you to say it.” He eyed her seriously.

“Yes, I trust you,” she said finally and he exhaled. Good, because what he was about to do next already had his cock twitching with eagerness. 

“Come here.” He took her hand in his, stroking over it to calm her nerves, leading her to the dining room table. 

“Almost forgot,” he said, the amusement in his voice apparent. He smiled devilishly before patting her face clean. 

_He fucking did not forget,_ that she was certain of. She pursed her lips into a thin line, and the fucking idiot chuckled. Even so, she obeyed and rested the upper half of her body on the table. 

Seven, he’d said. Surely she could handle seven. He’d spanked her before, but never like this, never with a belt. Her legs quivered slightly and she wondered if she’d be able to handle it. Before the first hit she had the safe word on her tongue, just in case. What if she couldn’t take it?

 _Relax, trust,_ she thought to herself sternly. If there was any aspect of their lives together at this point in time she trusted him fully with, it was with this. 

She flinched when the belt touched her, but it was without force, more like a stroke, a way for her to get the feel of the leather against her skin. She could hear her heart drumming in her ears. She closed her eyes.

“Breathe,” he said, and she realised she had stopped. “I need you to count for me.” She glanced over her shoulder at him; saw as he slid the leather between his fingers. “If you miss a count, I will add one more.” It was all very evident in his tone; he was thoroughly enjoying this. She let him know she agreed to the terms, as if she had a choice in the matter. Then, she waited, and _waited_ , and when she was about to ask him what the hell he was doing he struck her. 

“Fuck!” she yelled. A sting of pain rippled through her entire body. The place of where the belt met the skin felt like a roaring fire, bound to leave a very red mark.

“One,” she said, her voice steadier than she thought it would be.

There was something about the lack of pure intimacy that seduced her. When he spanked her with his hand, not only did it not reach the same level of pain, it was intimate in an obvious way. This however was triple the intensity and intimacy wasn’t in the touch of skin against skin, it was instead found in the act itself; in her want for submission and his unrelenting dominance.

He took his time before the second whip, maybe to allow the shock to subside, or maybe to constantly keep her on edge. 

When he struck her again, she was determined not to scream.

“Two.”

After the third her voice was as shaky as her legs, and by the fourth she could feel her wetness running down the inside of her left thigh. If she’d ever doubted it before, it was proven now. There was definitely pleasure in pain. Her cunt was throbbing badly. 

He struck her for a fifth time, never on the same spot, dividing them over both of her cheeks. Her entire arse was now hurting, burning. She couldn’t stop the tears from falling, because even though it aroused her more than she could comprehend right then, it was still undeniably painful, and the way he was so silent was starting to make her anxious.

The sixth one wasn’t as hard, and it wasn’t directed at her arse, instead, the belt hit between her thighs, on her swollen clit. She cried at the initial pain. The cry turned into a broken moan when a feeling of warmth started to spread inside of her. The sensation was _fucking amazing._

“Six.” 

When he struck her for the seventh time, she was surprised she was still standing. Her legs trembled worse than they ever had before, her knuckles turned white form how hard she was gripping the table. 

“S-seven,” she stuttered pitifully. 

She winced when she felt his hands on her backside, smoothing over the pain and the burn on her skin. Her fringe clung to her forehead, her body slick with sweat. There was nothing _clean_ about her anymore.

Draco pulled her off the table by her hair, his actions rough but his voice like velvet. “You did so good, love,” he said and kissed away a few of the tears on her cheeks. In that moment, his words and the gentleness of the kisses were everything she needed to not crumble on the floor. He took her hand and placed it on his very ostensible erection. 

“You feel that?” he said. She looked at him with lust filled eyes. “God, you’re perfect, such a _perfect whore_ for me.” She clung to his words just like she clung to his body, and she smiled, because to her, it was the most awarding compliment. 

Her hand stretched over his length, stroking it slowly over his trousers. She noted how his jaw clenched and how his breathing got short. 

_He was so hard, again. For her._

He kissed her. The way his tongue forced entry into her mouth could only be perceived as a show of primal need. He twirled her nipples between his fingers, the treatment so rough she cried into his mouth. 

Draco felt his cock twitch as she touched him. His cock had been throbbing uncomfortably in his trousers since the first lash. By the third he’d practically been able to smell her arousal, and her arse had turned the most incredible shade of red. He wanted to make sure it would hurt for days after, wanted her to have a constant reminder of how badly she needed him to break her and put her back together. 

The noises she’d made each time the belt met her skin, and how she’d looked bent over the table, could only be described as beautiful. He wished for the image to be etched into his mind forever. He’d had to stop from groaning when he felt the wetness on the leather after the sixth one. By the seventh whip he had her exactly where he wanted her, wet, whimpering and ready to beg for his cock. 

He could feel how aroused she was when his fingers traced the inside of her thigh. “Oh you’re dripping,” he mocked. He gathered it onto his fingers and pushed them inside of her mouth, making her taste herself. She sucked on his fingers just like she’d sucked his cock. His heart thrummed hard against his chest.

“Please,” she said, almost too quiet for him to hear. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “That was the most pathetic begging I’ve ever heard.” He gripped her throat, their noses inches apart. “You’ll need to do better or else I’m just going to make you suck my cock again, release myself deep in your throat, and you’ll spend the rest of the evening wet and unsatisfied.” When her face started to turn red he let go of it. He couldn’t well have her pass out before he got what his body craved.

And then she begged, like the slut she was. Telling him how much she needed his cock, how badly she wanted his hand around her throat while he fucked her hard and that she wanted him to make her come. 

He savoured every word because he’d never get tired of hearing her beg.

“Do you really think I’m going to let you come when this is supposed to be your punishment?” 

He tilted her head up so he could watch her reaction as he spoke. She almost looked frightened, like she’d die if he didn’t let her come. “You’re _my_ whore, my fucktoy, I’m going to use your body to make _myself_ come, and if you ask nicely when the time comes, _maybe_ , I’ll consider letting you come.” He saw as the realisation hit her, that maybe he wouldn’t let her. She rubbed her thighs together, desperate for something to ease her aching cunt and he knew his words only made her want him more. 

He sat down on the sofa. “If you want to come, you have to earn it. So, come here and fuck me.” She straddled him, lowering herself over him, way too slow. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her down faster, because she was not going to determine the pace. 

“Fuck!” she whimpered, her face twisting in pain and pleasure.

“Come on, fuck me, show me how badly you need to come.” 

She began moving, riding him. Her cunt was warm and slick and everything his body needed. He leaned his head back, lost to the pleasure she was providing. She was moaning too loudly for him to think straight, and if she kept it up he wouldn’t last. 

“You want to come? Is that why you’re screaming so loudly for me?” His voice sounding more composed than he was. He choked her, very lightly at first and told her to shut up. She looked at him with big eyes, because she wasn’t used to him being this rough with her. 

He tightened his grip. The gurgling sounds coming from her as she was unable to breathe had his cock throbbing inside of her. When he felt her cunt convulsing around him he knew she was right there with him, ready to be swallowed in pleasure. 

“You can choose, either I let go of your throat and allow you to breathe, or, I’ll let you come. Show me one finger if you want to breathe, and two if you want to come,” his voice came out raspy, because he was fighting hard not to unravel. She showed him two fingers.

“Of course you’d choose the second option, you’re such a slut.” He smirked, still gripping her throat tightly. “Touch your clit and come for me you dirty little whore.” He released her throat when her orgasm had passed through her. Her head collapsed against his shoulder. There was nothing greater than feeling her break for him, feeling how her mind fought against her body to please him, to know that her pleasure was his. The desperation of her breath was enough to make him come too, he moaned next to her, incoherently declaring how good she felt and how proud of her he was. To let her know _his_ pleasure was hers.

They stayed in that position for a long time, with him inside of her and her head against his shoulder. He drew circles on her back and asked if she was okay. She only managed a hum in reply.

“You did amazing, love, I’m very pleased with you.” He pulled her head up to look at her, to make sure she really was okay, kissing her tenderly, holding her close to his body. 

Hermione felt her emotions stir inside of her as she came back down from her orgasm. She was exhausted, satisfied and thoroughly fucked. When he told her she’d done amazingly she felt warmth spreading in her chest. 

“I just need you to tell me you love me,” she said honestly, because even though the harsh words he called her turned her on immeasurably, when the lust was sated she needed confirmation. 

He looked at her and she saw only compassion in his eyes, no trace of the coldness she’d seen just before. “I love you, and I love that you let me do this to you, I love how it turns you on just as much as it does me.” He paused. “I love all of you.” 

She almost cried again because she could feel it in her bones - he meant it. 

__

“There,” Hermione said to her reflection in the mirror after applying a bit of blush to her cheeks, a final touch for the New Years celebration this evening. She pulled up her satin robe and stood on her tiptoes, turning her body to see properly. Her bruises on her bottom had mostly faded, same as the ones on her wrists. A smile crept on her lips. The robe slipped through her fingers and she stood back down when two arms wrapped around her waist. The bowtie was left untied around his neck and the silver cufflinks with the Malfoy crest shined in the light. He smelled just like he had on their first date, like a cocktail of masculine spices. 

“Do they hurt?” he asked, she detected benevolence in his voice.

“Not really,” she said and leaned back onto him, hoping she wouldn’t crease his well ironed white button down. He still looked concerned. 

“You’d tell me right? You know you have to, if your desires change or you want things to be different.” 

“I know, and I will, if that ever happens,” she said and smiled up at him, trying to reassure him everything was just the way she wanted it. Not sure why he’d become so concerned as of late. He’d glance at the bruises on her body and she would see it turned him on. Every time she sat down after Christmas day she had a reminder of what he’d done to her body, and it made her nerve ends tingle each time. 

“Good.”

She tilted her head up. The kiss was the kind that stole you’re breath. His hand trailed seductively down her throat, her stomach and into her knickers. She moaned when he touched her right where she needed him to, and then he stopped before it really got good. 

“Something to look forward to when we get back home.” He smirked and went to get ready. 

“Tease!” she called and she was sure he chuckled from the bedroom. 

Hermione shook her head. How he managed to seem so unattainable she’d never know. She charmed her makeup into place, and thought about tonight. Trying to comprehend how yet another year had passed. It was crazy to her, on a day-to-day basis nothing ever seemed to change, and then, by the end of the year, suddenly everything had changed.

She exchanged her robe for a white embellished chiffon dress, saturated with layers of swishy beaded and sequined fringing in silver; it was cut with a V neckline and a thigh-grazing hem. The dress screamed New Year’s Eve sparkle, therefore she kept the accessories to a minimum, her hair in soft waves. 

“Don’t you look dapper,” she said and straightened his bowtie. By the fit of his three-piece black tuxedo she was sure it must have been tailored. 

When she asked if a tux was necessary he explained Blaise would accept nothing less. There was no argue, from what she’d gathered about the man he had the highest of standards. 

They shared half a bottle of wine before leaving. The slightest rush of alcohol coursed pleasantly through her body, making her want to smile constantly. After some persuasion she’d been able to get Ginny and Parvati to join in their festivities. Harry had been the hardest one to convince. He was reluctant to come if Ron didn’t. Therefore Ron would be joining them as well. She imagined it must be harder for him than for her. 

Hermione wasn’t too ecstatic about Draco’s ex, Pansy, being there as well. It meant they’d be ringing in the new year with both of their ex’s. Hermione felt like she knew Pansy even though she didn’t. Draco and Pansy had been a couple during their Hogwarts years. Pansy was every mean girl personified into a tiny, doe eyed person with a pixie haircut. She’d never seen her smile without looking condescending. 

From what she knew, Pansy had turned her mean girl qualities into a profession when she became a journalist for Witches Weekly. She remembered distinctly Draco calling the writers for the magazine _lowlife journalists_ , and now she wondered if that included Pansy or not.

She squashed the strange feeling in her stomach. 

_He is yours,_ she told herself. 

__

Blaise’s penthouse was fitting for a man of his standard; the roof was high and the opulence subtle yet obvious. The living room was huge and the sofa big enough to fit them all. Draco brought a bottle of Dom Pérignon to gift the host. 

Blaise greeted them with the biggest smile when they arrived. “You shouldn’t have!” he said when accepting the bottle. Hermione made her way to the living room, leaving Draco and Blaise alone. 

They walked slowly, Blaise placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Great gift, didn’t think someone who had a reputation as a _stud muffin_ could pull off a 1990 bottle of Dom.”

Draco rolled his eyes and didn’t bother with a reply. Apparently his dreadful nickname had spread.

_Fucking Theo and his big mouth._

They had plans to go to a club later that night. After some discussion in the strangest letter group chat Hermione had ever been part of, the decision had landed on _Eclectic._ One of the more elaborate nightclubs wizarding London had to offer; a place where the drinks were overpriced and the cost of a table the same as a down payment of a small flat. Theodore had been elated to let them all know the ceiling would be spelled just like the one in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Only, instead of bewitched to look like the night sky, it was spelled to display never-ending fireworks at the stroke of midnight. 

At the penthouse the music was loud and the rounded couch was filled to the brim with familiar faces. It was strange seeing them all seated so close after spending years being divided by their house names and fighting on different sides of the war. Even so, the atmosphere was welcoming and warm. Some faces were familiar, Theo, Blaise, even Pansy in a way, and then there were people she’d seen in passing in the hallway of the Ministry, one of them she recognized as an auror. 

She went to sit down next to Parvati. 

“Thank Merlin you’re here, finally someone I know!” She gave her a smothering hug.  
Her black hair was sleek and shiny with specks of sparkle in it, her dress like liquid gold. She tugged at her arm, pulling her down onto the sofa next to her. She put one hand next to Hermione’s ear and whispered, “I think Theodore Nott has been making eyes at me.” She tittered and Hermione caught that they’d all been drinking heavily already.

“Oh, he’s a flirt,” she said and fixed Theo in her periphery. Also dressed in a tux. “Just don’t ever let him cook for you and you’ll be fine,” she advised as an image of his sad tuna sandwich came to mind.

Parvati furrowed her brows and sipped from her champagne flute. Hermione gestured with her hand in a show of _’don’t ask’._ She hadn’t seen Parvati in ages, so when the question came she wasn’t all that surprised. 

“Tell me everything!” Parvati insisted. When Hermione told her it all started that night after Parvati left the Leaky Cauldron, her friend’s eyes widened and she leaned in closer.

“Wait, wait, I want to hear this!” Theo chimed in, getting comfortable next to Parvati on the sofa, his champagne flute filled to the brim. 

“Draco hasn’t told you?” she asked curiously. She assumed Theo and Blaise must know everything already, except for the more private parts.

“That git? No, it’s all very secretive when you ask him, I just know the content of that howler to be honest.” He grinned. 

“Hold on, a _howler?_ ” Parvati asked, looking at Hermione expectantly. Hermione sighed and began explaining, not too happy with the attention her relationship still managed to pull. In a way she had hoped Ginny would’ve filled Parvati in on everything. 

When she stepped into the kitchen she spotted Draco with Pansy. Pansy had her hand on his arm as she laughed about something he’d said. It wasn’t until that very moment she realised they were so _friendly_ with each other. Maybe that was her answer to her unspoken question. Draco’s view on Witches weekly’s journalists did exclude Pansy.

She slipped out of the kitchen unnoticed, jealous and in need of more champagne. 

_Well wasn’t that fantastic._  
__

“You good mate?” Harry asked and eyed his friend warily. 

“Mhm,” Ron said and smoothed down his shirt. 

“We can still… I don’t know, leave?” Harry suggested.

“Oh we are not leaving! Champagne, fireworks, what can go wrong? I’m sure ‘Mione wants you both here,” Ginny said, as she knocked on the door to Zabini’s flat. 

The tall, former Slytherin, opened the door with a grin, and within seconds they each had a champagne flute in their hands. “Welcome, just, make yourselves comfortable, we’re leaving for Eclectic in a few hours,” Blaise said and gestured towards what Ginny figured was the living room. 

Ron kept glancing around, he still hadn’t seen Hermione or Draco. The place didn’t impress him, it was too obnoxious for his taste. It wasn’t without resistance he’d agreed to spend his new years with this group, but it was with them or his parents, so he really had little choice. He’d already drunk some firewhiskey, thinking it might help calm the nerves. He was still angry with Hermione for choosing the blonde twat over him. Harry had said she seemed truly happy with Malfoy, admitting he’d had dinner with them. Ron had been livid, _naturally,_ because why would Harry even go on a dinner with them in the first place? Harry was supposed to find the two just as appalling as he did. 

’’’Mione!” he called out when he saw her curly hair round a corner. 

_Fuck did she have to look so good for?_ The fringing of her dress swished around her as she turned towards him. 

“Ronald,” she said. Of course she’d use his full name. Only she and his mother did that.

He shuffled his feet, suddenly losing the words he’d practiced. She watched him, waiting for him to say something. He put his hands inside of the pockets of his trousers. 

“It’s good to see you. You look good,” the words stumbled on top of each other. 

_You look good? Shithead that was not what you were supposed to say._

“I mean, you look, happy,” he corrected poorly.

“Thanks, you too.” He knew she was lying because he looked anything but. 

“Why are you with him?” The words rushed out of him, and they didn’t come out as nonchalantly as he’d practiced. It sounded more like an accusation.

She frowned, definitely getting defensive, when she stayed silent for what felt like ages, crossing her arms over her chest, he understood she wasn’t going to answer. 

“He’s not right for you.” He mirrored her movements and crossed his arms too. 

“You know what Ronald? I’m here to celebrate with my friends, if you’re not my friend, maybe you should leave?” Her eyes shot daggers at him, but he wasn’t going to back down. 

“We used to be friends, you changed, and then you left me. For _Malfoy_ ,“ he spat. Summarizing their story with unworthy words. 

“Did someone say my name?” A voice said. Malfoy showed up from behind him, placing himself between him and Hermione. 

_Oh fuck off._

“You know what, I think you should leave. I don’t feel like fighting with you tonight. If you come up with anything decent to say, you can send me a letter,” Hermione said as she stepped to stand beside Malfoy.

There was a fire roaring in his veins, he smothered it to the best of his abilities. He opted for some honesty instead, softening his voice and ignoring the blonde atrocity next to her. “I don’t know how to say this, but I miss you,” he paused when he saw her eyes go wide, for a moment he thought she was going to flee the room and let Malfoy hex him. 

“As a friend,” he added reluctantly, the last part not even close to the truth. He managed a thin smile that probably looked more like grimace, gripping his wand behind his back, just in case. 

“I miss my friend too,” she said after moments of silent pondering. Malfoy was still standing next to her, quiet. His cold eyes assessed him, he saw something lethal in them when Hermione said she missed him too. Hermione declared she needed a refill and she tugged the git with her. 

She’d said she missed him, as a _friend._ Problem? A _friend_ was not what he saw when he looked at her in that dress. 

He downed the rest of the champagne as he walked towards Harry again, thinking of the uselessness of such tiny flutes.  
__

Draco put his arm around Hermione as they walked towards the kitchen. He was trying to shake the anger that had erupted inside of him as Ron said he missed her. He had no business missing her, he’d added _‘as a friend’_ but to Draco the lie was obvious. The want to hex him into oblivion was strong. Had he not been sure Hermione would scold him endlessly he would’ve done it just to prove a point. 

He wanted to scream that _she_ was _his_ , and the Weasel could go wank in a corner because she’d never be anyone else’s again. 

“It’s good, right? I mean, it would be nice if we could be friends again,” Hermione said. 

“Mm, sure” he fake agreed, his eyes glued to the flute in his hands. If she wanted to believe that was a possibility he wasn’t going to crush her hope. 

He knew there was no way the twat could even begin to please her the way he did. The thought comforted him, made him calm again, and after he’d emptied the glass, he could even see the humour in Weasley trying. The man needed someone vanilla, and Hermione was anything but.

__

 _Eclectic_ delivered what was promised. They had been assigned their own table as they arrived. The space to sit was sparse; therefore, she was currently sat in Draco’s lap. The smell of sweet drinks and mixed perfume lingered in the air. She’d barely seen Ron since their conversation at Blaise’s. At the end of their talk she’d felt a sliver of hope.

Ginny shoved a unicorn shot into Hermione’s hand before she’d even had the chance to finish off the other drink she’d been handed just minutes ago. Tonight, neither of them seemed to be drinking responsibly. Her friend sat the tray of pink and silver shots down on the table and squeezed herself in between Harry and Blaise.

“Cheers, to a new year, and new friends,” she said and raised the small glass. Blaise winked at her red-haired friend and Hermione wondered if the wizard maybe wished Ginny wasn’t married. When she asked Draco he just grinned and said Blaise had a crush on Ginny during Hogwarts. Hermione didn’t know what to do with that information. Harry on the other hand had noticed nothing; instead he had been chatting away with that co-worker, Tim. A part of her thought that was what a healthy marriage was. To know that nothing and no one could threaten what they had.

Hermione grimaced when she downed the shot. If pink had a taste, that would be it.

Ginny clasped her hands together, probably the only one who enjoyed the taste. The nightclub was at full capacity. Sparkles rained from the ceiling and the music had her body wanting to move along with it. As the night progressed, their speech got slurry and their legs unsteady. Just the way it was supposed to be. They were all excited for the fireworks at midnight. Being able to enjoy in it from the dance-floor had many perks, one of them being they didn’t have to stand in the cold outside. She tried to make out what everyone was saying, but it was hard to hear over the loud music, so instead she smiled and nodded at Harry’s words, not catching any of what he was saying. She felt a constant need to giggle, her body filled with a feeling of happiness. 

She couldn’t stop a chuckle when Draco whispered loudly in her ear how good her arse felt in his lap. She shook her head, shoving playfully on his shoulder to convey how impossible he was with his crass words. She whispered back that maybe he should’ve fucked it out of his system before they left then, like she’d wanted to. He pursed his lips into a thin line and looked less than pleased. She focused her eyes on his, and saw how they were slightly dimmed, most likely from the whiskey in his hands. 

_Damn, he looked incredible, didn’t he?_

“You two are just too cute!” Pansy exclaimed from next to Theo who grinned in agreement. Hermione forced a smile because the woman had not spoken a word to her since the night begun.

She kissed Draco on his cheek and told him she was stepping out. Maybe the rush of nicotine would erase the sound of Pansy’s squeaky voice. She paved her way trough the celebrating crowd in search of the terrace. As she walked she determined to not let anything, not even the image of Pansy’s hand on her man, lower her joyful state.

The cold air had her skin prickle. The cigarette between her lips was the serenity she needed. She gazed up at the night sky and inhaled, smiling like a fool towards no one. She could still hear the faint thumping of the music inside and her body itched to dance.

A question struck her, did Draco dance? She thought about how his hips moved exceptionally good when they shagged, and concluded he must be good at it.

The terrace was filled with other people, enjoying a smoke just like she did. Just when calmness swept over and her thoughts began to drift to a pleasant place she felt someone touch her arm.

 _Can’t a girl have a smoke in peace?_ She thought when the cause for her escape stood next to her.

“Can I bum one?” Pansy asked. 

She forced another smile, “Certainly.”

Pansy looked at her like she was contemplating what to say, her pixie haircut was styled to perfection, and even though they were almost the same height she came across as tiny, petite. 

“I didn’t think you smoked.” 

_Why? Because people like Hermione couldn’t possibly do such a thing?_ To Hermione, anything Pansy said was passive-aggressive.

Hermione made a face. “Surprise,” she said. She didn’t owe Pansy an explanation to her most loved vices. 

“So, I haven’t had a chance to speak to you,” she began. “You two are very cute together.”

Hermione fought back an eye roll. “Yeah, you said that.” She didn’t intend for the show of attitude but the alcohol had lowered her reserves like it usually did.

Pansy stalled, puffing on her cigarette, filling the air in front of them with smoke. 

“Yes, I did, didn’t I? Draco’s my friend, you know? I’m just happy he’s happy, that’s all.” 

Hermione let the words sink in. She’d hoped to avoid any sort of conversation with his ex tonight, but there she was. It shouldn’t bother her if they were friends, she was hoping for exactly that with Ron. 

“Me and Draco, we just weren’t that compatible, so I’m happy he found someone who is,” she continued when Hermione stayed silent. 

_Yes, you’re happy for us, move along now little one._ She smiled involuntarily at her own inwardly conversational wit.

Alright, so maybe her attitude needed adjustment. 

She decided to play along, see where this conversation would lead. “Compatible how?” 

“You know, he’s got a bit of a … kink?” 

The smoke caught in her throat and she coughed it away. 

_Why in the fucking world would she bring that up?_

While she coughed Pansy kept talking much to Hermione’s dismay. 

“Of course you do, I mean you’re together so, obviously.” She tittered. 

_Where was she going with this?_

“So, you came out here to tell me you know Draco has a kink, you did not share that kink with him, and you’re happy for us?” she summarized sardonically, her voice slurring more than she wanted. 

Perhaps Harry’s sassiness had rubbed off on her through the years. 

Pansy laughed. “Well, when you put it like that … I didn’t come out here with an agenda, just thought it would be strange not to talk to you. You’re a part of Draco’s life and as his friend, I just figured it was the right thing to do.” She shrugged her shoulders. 

“I suppose that makes sense,” Hermione said, just wanting the conversation to end. “I’m not against him being friends with you if that’s what you’re really itching to ask.”

“That’s not what I-

“There you are!” A familiar voice shouted from behind. They both turned their heads to see a breathy Ginny coming towards them. 

_Ginny, I fucking love you,_ she thought.

“Come on, let’s go shake it on the floor!” she yelled and grabbed her wrist to drag her back inside; she almost lost her balance in the high heels. She shot a fake apologetic look towards Pansy. Pansy opened her mouth as if to say something, but Ginny dragged Hermione away before she could.

“What were you two talking about?” Ginny asked loudly, trying to override the music. 

“Don’t ask,” Hermione shouted back and shook her head. “Have I said I love you lately?” 

Ginny shot her the biggest smile. “That bad huh?” Ginny ordered them more drinks with her wand. “Fairy flush,” she declared while shoving yet another drink in Hermione’s hands. 

_Brilliant, another drink of pink poison._

It didn’t take long before she got swept up in the euphoric atmosphere on the dance-floor. She could feel the beat move from her feet on the vibrating floor all the way to her fingertips. Parvati yelled something to her and she smiled and nodded even though she had no idea what had been said. The blood roared in her veins and there was no stopping the big smile or the giggles that followed.

She glanced over the crowd of moving bodies and spotted too many familiar faces to count. Neville and Hannah were there; by the way his lips moved she figured he shouted a hello. Ron’s red hair stood out from the crowd, he was dancing with someone she didn’t recognise. She exhaled, it was a good thing really, he wasn’t a _bad_ person, he just wasn’t _her_ person. 

Then, as she turned her head towards their table, she caught Draco’s intense stare. He was leaning back against the sofa, drink in hand, legs parted just the way she liked. She was no longer just dancing, she was dancing for _him_. She bit her lip and put on a show, because that grey stare held everything she desired.

__

Draco leaned back on the plush sofa. From where he sat he had a view of the entire dance-floor. The empty glasses on the table disappeared and were replaced with new ones, the advantage of Blaise Zabini’s generosity. Several bottles of champagne stood there too; ready to be popped when the clock struck midnight. He usually never did dance, but the amount of alcohol he’d consumed was just enough to loosen him up. 

Theo was seated to his right. Draco tried his best to appear interested when he spoke about how good the Patil girl looked in her gold dress. 

“So, go find her then,” he said, for some reason not minding if he ended up alone at the table with Potter. 

Theo looked at him resolutely. “Oh, mighty one, give more good advise like that,” he said in mock defence. “No, I have to bide my time, do it just right.”

“I think the eyes you’ve been making at her all night is enough, surely she knows you’re interested by now,” Potter chimed in. Draco nodded in agreement. 

“Listen to scarface, he’s right,” he said. Did he just agree with something Potter said? Maybe he should cut himself off soon. He sat his glass down. 

Potter huffed, but he didn’t look offended like he should. Instead Potter raised his whiskey glass in salute, causing Draco to grip his glass again. 

Theo and Potter continued to exchange words. He only grasped some of it due to the loud music. He stopped listening completely when a sparkle of silver caught his attention. The silver beaded fringing on her dress swished around her body as she swayed her hips to the beat. As he sat gawking like the poor sod he was, her eyes locked with his. He licked his lips absentmindedly and she was definitely seducing him with that lip bite. 

Theo whistled. “You’re girl got some moves!”

Draco hummed in agreement before thinking, too distracted by the sight in front of him. He gathered himself eventually, his reflexes a little slower than usual. 

He looked at his friend austerely. “Stop looking at her, find Patil instead,” he said accusatorily. His eyes searched the floor below. “She’s on the dance-floor too, with Longbottom.” 

“Well come on then, it’s almost midnight anyway. Let’s grab the champagne. Blaise is already there too,” Theo said, narrowing his eyes in attempt to see better, “is he dancing with Pansy?” 

“Good for him, he’s been pining for Ginny Weasley all night,” Draco said. 

“Still? He’s such a sucker for her isn’t he?”

“Uhm. _Excuse me_ , what?” Potter looked positively distraught. Theo lowered his gaze down to the drink in his hand, clearly scared of potential conflict. 

“Oh, forgot you were here,” Draco blurted, not meaning for it to sound so arrogant. It was the truth; between his drunken state and Hermione’s little show of _come fuck me,_ he was a goner. 

“You for- Oh, you know what. Just fuck off,” Potter scoffed, not sounding nearly as offended as he had a right to. “Let’s go.” He stood, corrected the glasses on his nose; more determined now that he knew the host had been ogling his wife the entire night. 

_Ah, to think that was the man that defeated the Dark Lord._ Draco rolled his eyes and stood as well.

He struggled his way trough the crowded floor, and when he finally found Hermione she was still dancing her heart out, spinning alluringly in her heels. She shot him the most beaming smile as soon as she laid eyes on him, and he remembered a time when she’d never smile at him like that. “You’re here to show me _you_ got moves?” she challenged and pointed at him. From the way her speech slightly slurred he concluded she was just as drunk as he was.

He smirked. “Obviously.” Hermione laughed even though there was nothing funny about the way she was dancing up on him. She was electric and he wanted to be too. His hands were on her hips, his feet moving to the sound of the base. “Alright, you do have moves,” she admitted while her hand slipped up his thigh. He was only a little offended by the tone of surprise. Surely it was known, _Draco Malfoy had moves._ He overheard Theo hyping Blaise up as he danced with Pansy, and he knew it added centuries to his friend’s ego. 

“Come on you two, it’s almost midnight!” Parvati yelled when they’d danced so much his hair had started to cling to his forehead. Blaise distributed the flutes with his wand and spelled the champagne bottles to fill them. Glasses were raised and the word _‘cheers’_ echoed between them. His eyes darted over the lot, and he realised this was the first time they’d spent together with both of their friends. They were all still alive, no one had duelled anyone, and by the looks of it, they were all having carefree fun. The kind they could’ve had for years had the war not separated them, pulled them in different directions. 

“Come here, you,” she cooed and tugged at his jacket to bring him closer. “It is obligatory to seal the year and begin the new one with a kiss, you know.”

“Is it now?” he said with mock severity. He leaned in closer, her lips inches from his, “fuck, you’re really something,” he said, because the champagne was making his mind foggy and she looked like a fucking goddess. 

She smiled wide in reply, and when Ginny yelled Happy New Year, he closed the space between them for a kiss that had every fibre in his body vibrating. 

There was no better way to conclude the year she’d had, nothing sweeter than his lips on hers. The rest of the crowd disappeared. To her, there was only _him_ , his tongue in her mouth, his hand caressing her cheek and the sound of fireworks cracking over their heads. She bit down on his lower lip before their lips parted and wrapped her arms around his neck. The fireworks made for a glorious sight; she found herself incapable of looking away.

While everyone else watched the enchanting display above, Draco looked at her, because her beauty was simply unmatched. Her eyes sparkled just like the enchanted sky above, and he wished for that sparkle to be never-ending. He held onto her as tight as possible without crushing bones. Eventually, he followed her gaze and watched the explosion of colours. 

To Draco, the fireworks above indicated this was just the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. The last chapter to this story. I hope it finds you well and that you like how i chose to end it. 
> 
> If you've made your way through this story, I would love it if you left your thoughts of it, even just a word would suffice. It gives me life.
> 
> The epilogue will be up next Sunday the, it's around 2600 words. To me, the epilogue holds the true ending to this story.
> 
> I can't thank you enough for the lovely comments, kudos, bookmarks and so on, it is what has made this story so awarding to write. I think you guys know who you are, you have my heart I swear.
> 
> Keep a lookout, I'm already working on my next Dramione fanfic, it will take place in the Alpha/Omegaverse.
> 
> Lots of love.


	19. Epilogue

_Three years later ..._

“ _Fuck_ I’ve missed you,” Draco said, because a normal hello simply would not suffice when he’d been pining, parched, and dying the last weeks without her. He had Hermione pinned to the wall in the hallway like so many times before. It reminded him of that crucial moment when she’d been standing on the other side of the door, books shoved under her arm, deciding whether to enter or not.

_Salazar, was he happy she had._

“Mmmm, missed you too,” she hummed while kissing gently on the corners of his lips, along his jawline. Her hands slipped into his hair, sliding down to the nape of his neck. Every little touch felt electric.

There was no trace of doubt within him. Coming home, _to stay_ , was the best decision he’d made in a long time.

He’d considered stepping down from his position with D.M Unity for about a year now. A long distance relationship with delicious weekends together in Paris, London or New York really wasn’t all that when it always ended with one of them leaving. They seemed to be living their lives together in fragments and it wasn’t enough. He wanted normalcy, a _life_ with her, making her breakfast in the mornings and dinner every night. 

He buried his face against the column of her neck, planting kisses on every surface of exposed skin, thinking of how she was the home he missed when he was away. It was the scent of her he tried to hold onto as he fell asleep on yet another hotel bed, and it was the vision of her that made his world feel less hollow.

He felt her fingernails digging into his shoulders through the fabric of his robe, and he wished he didn’t want her so desperately, wished there was time for him to take a shower first, because she deserved him at his very best. But the thought of not touching her right now was unbearable; he’d been wasting too much time working on diplomatic problems instead of working both their bodies to exhaustion. 

Her fingers wrapped around his jaw and behind his ear. His tongue licked against the seam of her mouth. She made a soft sound, her lips parting, inviting him in. She twined her tongue with his dulling any words still unsaid. Tasting her mouth and feeling her warm body flushed against his was like drinking water after months in the desert. His hands trailed over her body, under her top, greedy, in search of everything that was undeniably _her_.

When their lips parted he just stared at her for a beat, taking in the softness of her facial features and her determined chin, finding the glimmer of gold in her eyes.

“Wow, you’ve _really_ missed me.” She chuckled softly; even the sound of her laugh had his cock throb inside of his trousers. He found the hem of her top and pulled it over her head, wanting to feel more of her. 

“Mm, hmm, told you,” he murmured against her skin. She smelled of that amber perfume he loved, the one she only wore on special occasions. It hadn’t occurred to him until just then, that it meant him coming home was that kind of occasion to her. It made potent warmth spread inside of him.

Her breathing hitched and his heart fluttered as his hands traced the curve of her breasts, along her sides, where her waist slightly cinched in. They let their bodies talk for them. The sounds of pleasure coming out from between her lips and the way her hands slid down his torso, unbuttoning his shirt with agile fingers, told him she’d missed him just as much. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and the warmth from her palms against his bare chest made him groan.

It wasn’t until he planted feathery kisses over her stomach the silence broke. “Thirty more weeks to go,” she said, her voice breathy. He felt his heart swell again, just like it had that Tuesday afternoon.

Hermione’s first few weeks of pregnancy had gone unnoticed, but when she couldn’t keep any food down for over a week she suspected maybe it was more than food poisoning. A visit to Saint Mungo’s for maladies and injuries revealed the truth. When the healer had handed her the green potion, explaining it was the best one for morning sickness, Hermione had almost fainted. 

Never ever again would she trust muggle birth control. She’d only switched to it because Draco was barely ever home, and brewing the potion was simply too time consuming. 

“You’re six weeks,” the healer had said, and the words echoed around Hermione’s mind until Draco made a quick stop in London before heading to New York again. 

It was the worst possible timing one could think of. Hermione was only five months into the career path she’d worked towards for years. Her marital reform had passed with just two votes majority, and from that point on, her career took off. The announcement of her Minister position had been bittersweet. It was one of her greatest accomplishments and she took great pride in it. She enjoyed each day she got to work on extinguishing old prejudices, but the work was all consuming, leaving little room for anything else.

That Tuesday, Draco talked excitedly about a rare bottle of wine he’d acquired while Hermione fumbled to put the kettle on. She only caught the words _red_ , and _wine_ , while raking a shaky hand through her curls. In the midst of his sentence she blurted, “I’m pregnant.” He lost the words on his tongue and stared at her for what felt like an eternity. She tried to search his eyes for answers, unsuccessfully, until she saw them fill with water. He embraced the breath out of her and kissed her until she melted against his body. The way his tears brought out the specks of blue in his eyes made her comprehend how much she wanted to be the mother of _his_ child. In her heart she knew he’d been longing for a child ever since that time he almost had one.

The weeks after they’d found out had been agony; she hadn’t thought it possible to miss him more than she already did. She missed the small things; sitting on opposite ends of the sofa while reading, the way his voice sounded when he’d just woken up and what his cooking tasted like. 

Between work, constant nausea and overall exhaustion, she survived on cereals and sandwiches as sad as Theo’s. When Draco found out he’d almost flooed home, _dramatic as he was_. Two days later Narcissa had showed up with boxes of home cooked meals. Her cooking reminded her of Draco’s and the light in her eyes did too. 

In a show of gratitude, she invited Narcissa in for tea and now it had become routine. Every Sunday when Draco was away, Narcissa showed up with boxes of food and they shared a pot of tea, much to Lucius dismay. His father’s reaction to the pregnancy had been expected, he’d been livid. His name was one they avoided each of those Sunday afternoons. 

She wasn’t sure what Draco had told his mother to convince her to come that first time, but she had grown appreciative of her company and pregnancy advice. Being on the verge of motherhood had Hermione miss her own mother. When she opened up about it that time her hormones had run crazy, Narcissa did the unexpected. She hugged her. It was awkward and stiff, but it changed things. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked and she returned from within her head to the box filled hallway of his flat. Their family was expanding and their home had to as well. 

“Better now that you’re here.” She smiled and noticed how his eyes softened; saw the glint in his eyes that held _everything_ she treasured. Just like she’d seen the wizarding community being rebuilt after the war, so had her own world.

All at the hands of a blonde wizard she’d come to love. 

The hands that were now exploring her body in a way she ached for. Her head fell back against the wall when he tugged down the cups of her bra and swirled his tongue around her nipple. The indecent sounds coming from the back of her throat felt foreign, it had been _too_ long since she’d felt _him_. She relished in the closeness, his mouth against her breasts and the low groans escaping his lips as he continued with his mission to search every inch of her body with his tongue. 

His teeth grazed her earlobe again. “Bed,” he said, and began walking backwards, his lips on hers, his hands on her shoulders, dragging her along. They rushed out of their clothes on their way, and for each second their lips were forced to part, to remove another piece of clothing, she felt incomplete. 

Draco crawled on top of her, and the heat from her body meeting his made for a firestorm. “Please,” she said and wondered if that was the word most used since the day they’d met. He chuckled, confirming that maybe it was. 

“I need a taste first, love. It’s been way too long.” 

She parted her legs wider and didn’t protest when his tongue whirled around her sensitive spot. A moan erupted from deep within.

“My god you’re delicious,” he murmured against her core, and the blush that covered her cheeks was unstoppable. She’d never grow used to him telling her that. 

His hands on the inside of her thighs held her in place as he continued to devour her. When his nose nuzzled her clit as his tongue entered her, she felt the familiar feeling of spreading warmth in her abdomen. 

“Yes, don’t stop.” she whispered, even though she knew he wouldn’t. Her hands tangled in his soft hair, and the sight and sensation of him between her legs after weeks of solitude made her fall. She cried his name, whispered her praise and dug her fingers into his skull.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he said and she thought that should be her line. 

Draco moved to kiss the freckles on her nose because they always screamed out to him, and when her hand wrapped around his length he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He was hard even before she touched him. A low growl escaped him, because when she stroked him up and down something entirely primal took over his body. He needed to feel her right now or else he’d unravel before he got the chance. She purred when he bit down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder, marking her to him, always wanting everyone to know she was _his_. He placed her hands above her head, holding her in place, because even when they made love he needed her to know he was the one in charge.

“You feel that?” he asked when he slowly buried himself to the hilt inside of her slick warmth, pressing lightly on the lower part of her stomach, making her feel every inch of him inside of her. She moaned yes in response as her lust swallowed her. 

“Who’s you’re baby daddy?”

She smiled, and couldn’t help but roll her eyes. _God he was impossible._

The smile disappeared quickly when he bit down on her left nipple. She squealed. “Who?”

“Y-you,” she stammered, never able to hold the same level of articulacy as he could during sex.

“That’s right,” he said. How he managed to look so amused while moving inside of her she couldn’t fathom, because she was either drowning in his eyes or mesmerized by the way his stomach muscles flexed as he rocked his hips. 

Her moans urged him on, he picked up the pace, watching as her luscious tits bounced every time their bodies met. It was an image he’d envisioned countless of times alone in different parts of the world. The feeling of being inside of her softness was incomparable to his hand, and the images in his head could never do it justice. 

He wrapped his fingers around her throat, her reaction to it was instant, he could feel her cunt spasm. The skin of his body was getting slick from the exertion, he was fighting hard not to come undone before she was there with him. She took his thumb into her mouth and he groaned, milliseconds from losing his self-control.

“Fuck you’re perfect, such a good girl for me.” 

He stretched her legs wider apart, closer to her body, thrusting deeper into her warmth. “ _Oh_ , fuck you’re-“ she mewled, “so _good_ , feels so good,” she murmured over and over again, and he loved to be praised. Her nails clawed at his back, even when they were literally attached, it wasn’t close enough for her.

“Is that gonna make you come?” he asked, his fingers rubbing circles on her clit.

“Yes, oh yes,” she moaned, feeling her second orgasm forming at rapid speed.

“Come on then, be a good girl and let go for me,” he managed between groans. “I’m right there with you.”

He saw her heartbeat drumming frantically under the surface of her throat, and he told her to look at him. He wanted to see the moment she broke for him. She shuddered around him, her walls gripping him so tight and perfectly. It was first then he allowed himself to let go too. He struggled to keep his eyes on hers as he emptied himself. He wasn’t sure what sounds derived from his throat; all that was certain was her trembling body beneath his. 

She planted a few soft kisses on his shoulder. “I’m lucky to have a fiancé that really does if for me, aren’t I?” Her fingers traced over the gold band on his left ring finger. The day he’d gotten down on one knee was a memory she’d keep forever. It was her happy place. Whenever work was overwhelming or she missed him so much she thought she might come apart, she looked at the sparkle gracing her finger. Reminded they were no longer being rocked by the rough waves of the sea on a life raft, they were in the shallow, safe. 

“I swear, every time you return you look even better. So handsome, it’s not even fair.” She breathed out a soft sigh.

Draco chuckled warmly. _Fiancé_ , he loved the sound of that, the only thing better would be husband. Their wedding date was set. Only their closest friends and his mother would be there. He held no hope for his father at all. Hermione hadn’t been too keen on having to be pregnant on their wedding day, but to Draco it was imperative their child wouldn’t be born out of wedlock. No Malfoy ever had.

He pulled her closer. Looking down her exposed body. ”You’re telling me, have you seen your tits lately. Don’t even get me started on that arse,” he said and swatted it playfully. “Give me a minute and I’ll show you just how lucky I feel.” 

She drew her fingers across his chest, a cheeky grin stealing across her features. “Really, a minute?” She straddled him with a swift motion, her hot core positioned perfectly over him. He groaned at the friction when she started to grind against him, already growing hard again. The faintest of smirks played at his lips, because she was just as greedy for him as he was for her. She bent down and her lips found his, her tongue like velvet in his mouth. His hands travelled down her spine and hugged her arse. He slid a finger inside of her puckered hole. She moaned, definitely, enjoying his actions. She lowered herself onto him, while he memorized the image of her luscious tits again.

He thought he might perish if she didn’t start to move. “Make me come,” he said, his voice husky and short for breath. He manoeuvred her hips with one of his hands and watched as her side fringe started to cling to her face. He pushed up, leaning against the headboard, her glorious breasts at eye level. He fondled them gently and kissed along her collarbone, losing himself as she rode them both into heightened existence again. 

__

Draco cuddled her close. His hand rested on the slight bump on her stomach, and hers traced over the uneven skin of scars on his torso, a reminder of the war and their parts in it. As he looked into her brown eyes he saw stories that were only theirs, words strung together haphazardly, fitting and not fitting at all. Words that were too sacred to be spoken out loud, instead it vibrated from them both. 

When Hermione dozed off, he found himself unable to, because if he did he might miss out on the sound of her steady breathing. As he lay there in the afterglow, watching her eyelids flutter he thought of how their child was as unexpected as the two of them and that it was in the unexpected he’d found his world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thoroughly going to miss these two. I might update a little something someday to the prequel "Misery is better together" when nostalgia hits me - got a tip from a kind reader.
> 
> Many, millions of thank yous to everyone who has left a little love on this story. It is truly what has made it such a joy to write. 
> 
> Two songs that inspired this epilogue are the following, just thought I'd let you know if it interests you.  
> Tom Walker – Better half of me  
> Sleeping At Last – Every little thing she does
> 
> Lots of love.


End file.
